Life, Death, and Life Again
by JessieDog
Summary: An expansion of the last two episodes of Season 6. So much was implied, so much was left unsaid. This story fills in the gaps, and addresses the romance that was left hanging... A LONG oneshot. UPDATED JAN 2013: BETTER FORMATTING FOR EASIER READING.


My Fanfic interpretation

The door gently snapped shut, separating the partners by 2 inches of wood, several feet of space, and the entire world.

Booth stepped back, and jamming his hands deep into his pockets, took in a deep breath and blew it out, hunching his shoulders at the same time. Burned onto his retinas was the image of his Bones standing there hugging her pillow looking forlorn and alone.

"Enough!" he growled quietly to himself. " You gotta big day tomorrow." "_Aint that the truth_" he added silently with another indrawn breath. Broadsky, his friend, colleague and fellow sniper, had turned bad. Just about as bad as it was possible to go, and now it was up to Booth to put it right. He smiled to himself as he prepared for bed, remembering a time early in their partnership when Bones had commented that it was typical of Booth to go around putting things right. That time they were sitting on a bench in the sun, watching a frightened Parker on a Carousel

Anyway, Bones was safe, Broadsky thought Booth was dead (which gave Booth the advantage) and it was time for sleep. The last thing he did before settling under the sheets and closing his eyes was to place his revolver on the bedside table, within easy reach. Just in case.

Brennan stood still in the middle of Booth's lounge, then slowly turned and placed the pillow she'd been holding onto one end of the couch. Tears slipped silently down her face as she relived the events of the day. She still couldn't believe he was dead, and resisted an urge to look down at her hands, almost expecting to see Vincent's fresh blood staining her skin once more.

Brennan took a deep breath, then crossed the room to where she'd placed her loaned sweat-shirt earlier. She was glad she was here; Booth needed her, and after the day they'd both had, she needed to be near him too. She tried to imagine what it would be like, knowing you needed to kill somebody whom you had been friends with. She began to understand the seemingly callous turns of phrase Booth sometimes used when talking about his past duties as a sniper. "Take somebody down", and the one that really chilled her blood: "Disconnecting the computer" to describe that perfect shot through the cervical vertebrae which severed the spinal cord instantly. These were phrases that helped Booth to disconnect enough to do what had to be done. He wasn't killing a person, he was neutralising a threat. The words made it sound slightly better.

She crawled onto the couch, pulling her borrowed pyjamas down far enough to cover her lower back, laid her head on the pillow and covered herself with the blanket. "Sleep now" she told herself. "_If only it were that easy_," she answered, as the events of the day played again through her mind.

Stifling a sigh, Brennan turned yet again on the couch that was too short for her, trying to find a less cramped position. She was smaller than Booth, which made her sleeping on the couch more logical, but she was still tall enough to make finding comfort impossible. Sheer exhaustion had helped Brennan doze a little, but deep restorative sleep was out of the question; too much had happened in the last 24 hours, and there was more to come. Much more.

Once again the image of Mr Nigel-Murray's face filled her vision. His warm blood pumped out between her fingers, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. No matter how she pressed down, the thick liquid flowed out with each pulse of his slowing heart. The smell of it filled her nose, even now hours later. But it was his confused and pained expression that stayed with her, and his words "Don't send me away..." Later she learned that Mr Nigel-Murray's aorta had been almost totally severed with that single shot; death had been guaranteed within a few seconds, despite the efforts of herself and Booth. "Don't send me away..." the words echoed again in her mind.

"What kind of person am I that he thought I would send him away?" The words went around and around, giving her no chance to rest. She felt dried out with all the tears she had shed that day, empty and hollow and aching. Resolutely she moved back to her original position, on her other side. "I hope he heard what I said; right at the end; that he was my favourite and everybody knew it." Over the last years Temperance had begun to learn the little social niceties that her traumatic early life had not provided opportunity to master. Those 'little white lies' that did no harm, but smoothed the interactions between friends and colleagues. It was all she had to offer her 'squintern' at the end.

Involuntarily she smiled: 'Squintern'. It was what Booth had dubbed her intern assistants. Initially she had been offended at his use of the word 'Squint' for anybody of high intelligence, who worked in labs. After Zack was placed in the asylum, she'd been reduced to rotating several of her more promising interns through the lab, both benefiting from their expertise, and honing their skills in anthropology as only she could. It didn't take long for Booth to corrupt 'intern' into 'squintern'. Eventually she found herself using the term, as did most of the Jeffersonian team. It was such a Boothy word, and she chuckled out loud again.

The chuckle morphed into a sob, and she buried her face into her pillow, remembering again her squintern's final words earlier that afternoon; Please...don't make me leave."

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In the next room Booth slept deeply. Long ago, while on duty, he had learned the skill of sleeping wherever he could. It was a matter of turning off the internal computer, and allowing his body's need for rest to win out. Whether on a soft bed, or sprawled under a shrub in the middle of the desert, or in barracks surrounded by 100 other men snorting and crying out in their sleep. It took a while to perfect, but when your life, your instincts, depended on being rested, a good soldier did what he had to, and slept. "You never see the bullet that takes you out." And so, after taking all precautions possible, Booth slept.

Booth sighed, and rolled onto his back in his sleep. Although unconscious, he retained another of his soldier's skills; that of returning to full wakefulness, ready for action, in a split second. This skill, too, had saved his life on several occasions.

12 feet away Brennan dozed once more, until the remembered sound of a shattering skylight brought her suddenly panting and trembling upright and awake. She leaned forward, resting elbows on knees, and cradled her head. Booth had insisted that all the blinds remained shut, but the streetlights still illuminated the room around the edges. This room that was both familiar and strange. It was Booth's place, dark tones and heavy furniture; the distorted lighting took the colours away, making the sitting room appear muted.

Shaking her head, Brenan stepped off the couch, shaking down her pants legs to cover her ankles. Padding barefoot over to the kitchen, she filled a glass of water at the sink and drank it down. The cool water helped rid her of the persistent smell of Vincent's blood in her nose & pharynx, but only slightly. Now that he was dead, she could call him Vincent in her mind, rather than the more formal "Mr Nigel-Murray." She knew it was not possible that she could smell the pungent warm scent of blood, and wondered why.

_I suppose it could be a continued release of neuro-transmitters. _Brennan understood that the sense of smell, like all other senses, was transmitted to the cerebral cortex via a pathway of neurons. Electrical activity and chemicals were released in a relay of information, as the impulses moved from the nasal passages toward the brain and were interpreted. A particularly traumatic event could cause a cascade of those chemicals, causing the neurons to continually fire off their messages, long after the stimuli had ceased. Kind of like the after-shadow seen on the back of the human eye after staring too long at a bright object.

_What is WRONG with me?_ She pondered. _Not too long ago I would be able to shake this off and go back to sleep. Why is it that now I can only think of Booth, and how much better I would feel if he were holding me? We would often sit quietly together after a long difficult case, and let our mutual silence and togetherness bring closure. Why not this time?_

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"Woah! Where did that come from?" Temperance whispered to herself. "Now is NOT the time to be going down that path." It wasn't very long ago that they had discussed their relationship after being trapped for several hours together in an elevator. The conclusion was that Booth was angry, and Brennan was not ready to lose the rest of her imperviousness. They were partners, and friends, probably best friends, and would one day merge into being together, but that time wasn't yet. They made a wish, and burned some paper, consigning their dream to the 'universe' or whatever Booth called it.

Temperance moved quietly back to the couch, her feet shuffling across the carpet. More by feel than sight she settled back down with her glass in her hand. _If I was at home right now, I would get out my laptop and write. Putting a Kathy Reichs story down on paper would help._ But she was not at home, and it was not safe to leave; who knew where Broadsky was? Having neutralised Booth (as he thought) his next logical target would be Brennan, and she was in effective lock-down.

She sat with her back against the arm-rest, knees bent up. She would not sleep again she knew. Sighing she checked the luminous dial of her wrist-watch sitting on the table next to her. 0444 hrs. She was used to death. She dealt with it every day, touching, smelling and analysing it for the smallest details. But this was a death very close to her, and it had shaken her deeply. And Booth would be facing death again in a few hours, matching wits with a cunning, intelligent and dangerous man.

"Regrets..." the word echoed around her skull, as ephemeral as the phantom scent of fresh blood which continued to haunt her.

"But I don't want to live with regrets." She whispered out loud. Placing the empty glass down next to her watch, she got to her feet and approached the closed door. Quietly she turned the knob and pushed it open "Booth?" She called quietly, "Booth?"

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Sleeping flat on his back, Booth became aware of somebody in the room with him. His Ranger-trained instincts flung him across the bed towards his weapon. Snatching up his gun he reflexively aimed for the intruder with a steady two-handed grip. "What!? Did you hear something?"

"No." Brennan came to a dead halt just inside the door frame, her hands out in front of her as though she could ward off the bullet. Fear spiked through her body, and she held herself still with an act of will. Any sudden movement and the man in front of her could shoot her without realising he'd done it. She didn't even dare to breathe.

She needn't have worried; Special Agent Seeley Booth never placed his finger on the trigger of any gun until he was good and ready, and sure of his target. His index finger lay extended along the barrel, where an incidental twitch would have no far-reaching consequences. He stared, puzzled, at Bones. She was tousled and pale, his grey sweat-shirt hanging on her. Her eyes were red & swollen, and her mouth was open and gasping. "You want me to put the gun down?" He inquired, not really sure what else to say.

"Yes."

"Ok." He took a deep breath, trying to dispel the fight or flight instinct which still flooded his system with adrenaline. Shuffling across the bed, he hung his legs over the side and laid his weapon on the side-table. He was still shaking with reaction, but when he looked up and saw 'his Bones' crying quietly, he instantly forgave her. Cocking his head to one side, he held out his arm, inviting her closer to him.

It was all Temperance needed, and with a sob she moved forward, all her confusion coming to the fore. "What did he mean, don't send me away? Why would he ask me that?" The question that had been haunting her for hours spilled out, along with a fresh gush of tears.

His brow furrowed, Booth gently took hold of Bones' hand, and guided her to sit facing him on the side of the bed. He knew she couldn't relax until she'd told him what she came to, and he was ready to listen and provide comfort. Between sobs, she revealed her fears; that she must be a harsh person if Vincent thought she wanted to banish him from the place he loved, and the people he fit in with. Tucking her against his side, Booth answered "Oh, no. No, no no no no no. You got it all wrong Bones. It wasn't you he was talking to." He hesitated, knowing her thoughts on what he would say next. "It was God."

"But he was like me. An atheist, he didn't believe in God."

Smiling crookedly, Booth shook his head "Then it was the universe. He wanted to stay."

Anger suddenly sparked in his partner's eyes, "If there was such a thing as God, he would have let Vincent stay!" as she shook her head slowly in anguish.

Booth stared her gently but firmly in the eye "It just doesn't work that way Bones" he said with pain and regret at this messed-up world in which they lived.

She dropped her eyes away from his, looking down. He'd never seen her looking so defeated, so lost. This wasn't the strong confident Bones that the world knew. This was the tender Temperance with the big heart which she'd revealed to him only a handful of times before.

Brennan shrugged, and moved her head awkwardly. The same movement repeated, and she asked "Can we...?" as she nodded towards the rumpled sheets behind Booth.

"Yeah, sure Bones." Booth scooted backwards, and laid himself down across the bed, with his partner following. Holding her against him, he hugged her tightly, stroking her head and whispering reassurances.

The dam broke, and Temperance sobbed out loud, shoulders heaving as she cried out her grief in the arms of the man she had learned to love. She twined her fingers in his vest, and brought it up towards her face, inhaling his scent. Her nose was no longer filled with the metallic odour of Vincent's blood, but with warm flesh and male sweat.

Her hand ranged further across Booth's shoulders, as she unconsciously caressed him, tears still wet on her face. Her head was suddenly lifted by the chest wall beneath her cheek as Booth took in a sharp breath. 'Regrets...' the word replayed itself though her mind.

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Booth lay still as he cradled Bones against him. He knew she was confused, and wanted comfort, but he was finding it difficult to limit himself to what he believed she was asking. Breathing in deeply to dispel the tension rising within, he held her shoulders even closer_. "Now is NOT the time, bud" _he cautioned himself. _"_ _Do not even think about it."_

"Shhh." He crooned, as he would to Parker when he woke with a nightmare. He felt proud, privileged that Bones would trust him enough to come to him when she was hurting so much, and he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise that. Closing his eyes, he relaxed back, prepared to hold her quietly for the rest of eternity if that's what she wanted.

Time passed, and he realised that Bones was no longer sobbing. His skin was feeling cold where her tears had soaked through his vest, and she was breathing deeply and evenly. Lifting his head to check on her, he was surprised to see a pair of water-logged blue eyes staring up at him. "I thought you were asleep."

"No. How can I? " She traced her hand over his chest again, splaying her fingers and digging in her nails slightly.

"Bones..." he cautioned, once again fighting the baser instincts that were awakening.

"No, It's alright." She placed her hand alongside his jaw. "I want to."

His eyes darkened as they locked with her lighter ones. "But..."

"Booth. It's OK. I want to." Gently, then more forcefully: " I laid on that stupid couch out there for hours, and I'm not going back there now! Don't tell me you haven't thought about it" she challenged.

Wriggling up on her elbows a little, she brought her face to a level with his. Lifting her other hand, she traced his brow ridge with one finger. His eyes closed momentarily, and his breath caught. "No regrets, remember?" She breathed as she gently brought their lips together.

Nodding, he cupped her face, brushing back the tendrils of hair that were falling forward. "OK. But only if you're sure."

"Yes, Booth. I'm sure." This time he brought their lips together, slowly and sweetly. Neither felt any urge to hurry, as they savoured every moment, every sensation.

He rolled her backwards, and kissed her more deeply, running his hands down her torso, then back up under her top. "That's one sweat-shirt I'll never look at the same way again." He chuckled. Meanwhile, her hands were busy across the small of his back. She had touched him there in the past, to ease the painful muscle spasms he experienced from time to time, but that had felt nothing like this. Kneading his warm flesh, she ran her fingernails up towards his scapulae (_shoulder-blades she thought amusedly_) revelling in the warm smooth feel of him.

Booth was working on her top, and Temperance let go of him long enough to allow him to slip it up over her head, then returned to stroke his square jaw. _Very symmetrical_ she smiled, and kissed him again, running her tongue over his teeth. "Seeley" she whispered, speaking his given name out loud for the first time.

No part of their bodies were neglected in this mutual exploration – feet, arms, legs, back and shoulders. And when they finally came together it was with a sigh and gasp of contentment. They were just so _right_ together, and neither could deny it after this. When they were finished, Temperance lay against Seeley's chest, in much the same attitude as they had started. Both of them drifted off to sleep – a sound, profound and restful sleep. The day was still an hour or so away.

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The alarm clock beside the bed alerted loudly, and the lovers woke. Brennan was curled onto her side in the middle of the bed, with Booth wrapped around her. Her hair was tangled across his face. Smiling, he reached up and brushed it aside, hugging her against his belly and breathing in the scent of her. He could hardly believe she was there with him, actually in his bed.

At the movement Brennan moved her hips away and rolled to her back, opening a space between them. She felt warm, and loved. And a little shy. For all her sexual encounters in the past this was a new experience. She rarely had an emotional connection with the men she slept with, preferring to limit herself to the physical enjoyment of a 'good release'. The feelings she had developed for Booth, and began to openly acknowledge to him over the past months changed the entire experience for her, adding a new dimension.

Slanting her eyes sideways, she glanced upwards, trying to read his expression. A pair of warm brown smiling eyes met hers. "Morning Bones" he greeted her.

"Morning" she mumbled back, glancing away.

"Hey" he reached over, gently grasping her jaw. "No regrets, remember?" and planted a kiss on her cheek, missing and getting it mostly on her chin.

"No, no regrets." She answered with a smile.

They rested, gazing gently at one another as they allowed their new closeness to . Booth's expression suddenly turned hard, and worry filled his eyes. The reality of what the day might bring slammed into his head with the force of a sledgehammer. Broadsky. It wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot. Rolling violently away, Booth threw himself out of bed, mind already running along the new track.

Brennan half sat up, trying to clutch the sheet to cover herself "Booth, what..?" she protested.

"Time to get going Bones. Gonna be a hard day" He sighed, and headed for the shower.

Stunned, Brennan wondered how she could have forgotten. Vincent was dead. Booth needed to find Broadsky and take him down, before another person died. Brennan's smile faded, and she, too, rolled from the bed. Making her way toward the sitting room she found where she had placed her clothes last night, and dressed. While waiting for Booth to finish she tidied up, folding the blanket on the couch and placing it neatly on top of the pillow.

Fifteen minutes later Special Agent Seeley Booth stepped into the room. Dressed in a clean suit he was holding his gun, checking it over before placing it into the holster beneath his left arm. Shaved and groomed, with his 'cocky' belt buckle and rainbow socks he was all business. Gone was any hint of the intimacy they had so recently shared.

"Okay, I'll drive you to your place so you can change, then to the Jeffersonian. Let's go."

Nodding, she allowed him to shepherd her outside the door, and they headed off toward the parking area. There was no contact, no closeness, and no further acknowledgement that things had changed between them forever.

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They arrived at Brennan's apartment block, and Booth made her stay in the car until he'd checked the area. No sign of Broadsky, although that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't somewhere close. "Right, clear. I can't see him, but we're not taking any chances." Rapidly the pair moved to the elevator, then down the hallway. Opening the door, Booth went in first, gun ready. A swift check showed that all seemed quiet. "Right, you got 10 minutes." He ordered. "Don't go near the windows, get cleaned up and then we're outta here."

"But..."

"No buts Bones. Just do as I say."

Once again she nodded, deferring to his greater experience. Scurrying around, she found fresh clothes before jumping into her shower. A quick scrub, and a comb dragged through her hair and she was ready.

Back to the big black SUV and Booth was on the radio, talking to the dispatcher as he drove rapidly along. Brennan remained uncharacteristically silent, scanning the streets they passed, as if hoping she would see the sniper in the distance before he saw them.

It was a tense ride to the Jeffersonian, punctuated by Booth's radio as they listened to updates. Arriving at the underground carpark, they were greeted by three fit-looking young people, all wearing FBI-emblazoned Kevlar vests.

"Area's secure, sir." Booth acknowledged the report with a sharp nod as he flicked an index finger in salute towards his colleague before moving rapidly towards the entrance, herding Bones before him. The agents returned to their posts, already scanning once again for possible threats.

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Inside, Booth & Brennan find Cam in her office, with tears streaking her face. Angela stands beside her, offering the sympathy of her presence. At a querying look from her best friend, Angela answers "Vincent's mother." Nodding, Brennan moves toward her own office.

"Right people, meeting here in 5 minutes." Commands Booth. Angela moves off to find Hodgins, while Brennan drops her belongings in her office before returning.

Cam remains seated at her desk, not having moved, Booth pacing back and forth in the small space, hands on hips. The team arrives, and groups together, Hodgins with his arm over Angela's shoulders standing next to Cam. Brennan cocks one leg over the side of Cam's desk, arms crossed protectively over her body. Booth stops pacing, and gives the group his attention, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his fawn coat.

"Listen up people. We got units all around this area, but Broadsky's smart. You stay inside, you don't go out. Cafeteria food for everybody today. NO exceptions." His authority is unmistakeable as he locks gazes with everybody in the room. One innocent squint is dead, and he doesn't want any more. Broadsky was right about one thing: Booth hates the idea of collateral damage.

Hodgins speaks up "We identified that Leishinger had an access card in his wallet. One of those gold smart-cards?"

Booth nods. "Yeah, what about it?"

"It's not there now. We think Broadsky's got it."

"Huh. So it wasn't only Leishinger's rifle he was after. Thanks, that's useful to know." He pivots in place, pinning each of his team. Raising his hand he emphasises each word; "Stay put! "I'll send Sweets over soon."

One by one, Cam, Angela, Hodgins and Brennan acquiesce to his instructions. Booth nods, satisfied, and strides out of the room. "I'll let you know."

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Jack and Angela head to his lab, talking about the blacklight technique that identified what was in Leishinger's empty wallet pocket.

Brennan heads into the main lab to examine Leishinger's bones, which were processed and cleansed over night. Cam sighs, and draws forward some of the interminable paperwork associated with her job.

Brennan was unsettled, trying to cope with too many changes coming at her too quickly. Back in her office she slipped into a freshly-laundered blue lab coat. Going to her desk, she opened the drawer with her personal artefacts; jewellery, makeup etc. It wasn't uncommon for her to be called to a case in the middle of the night, so she kept an emergency drawer full.

Making a selection of ear-rings, necklace and makeup, she went to the bathroom to groom herself properly. She felt in need of all the confidence-boosting she could muster today. "After all, I really didn't get a chance this morning with Booth hurrying me along" she told herself. When finished, she continued on to the lab, where Leishinger's skeleton awaited her, laid out on the table.

Picking up the skull, she began to examine it. Feeling the weight, she balanced the bone in her hand, subconsciously comparing it with the hundreds of other skulls she had examined in the past. While a strict scientist, Brennan also relied on her intuition, although she would strenuously deny this if she were ever accused of it. Over the years, she had built up an intrinsic feel for whether bones 'felt' right or not. Density, weight, balance and hundreds of other clues went towards this conclusion. This skull 'felt' right – it was most likely the skull of a person that fitted Leishinger's age, build, occupation, and development.

Turning it over in her hands, she noticed something on the left mastoid process, just below and behind the auditory meatus. Looking closer she could see that the periosteum showed signs of damage, consistent with bruising received just before death. There was damage associated with a blow and the initial stages of inflammation. Death had robbed the person of their blood flow, so the inflammatory process had been cut short.

_I should probably examine this microscopically, to determine the extent of cellular damage. _

A noise broke Brennan's concentration, and she glanced up. She smiled as Angela waddled into the room, one hand on her back as though she could ease away the ever-present ache her pregnancy caused. Hey Ange" she greeted.

"Hey, you." Was the response. "You seem kind of quiet, you OK sweetie?"

"Yes," Brennan smiled, "I am finding that my concentration is not as good as it should be." She gave her friend a rueful smile indicating with a glance the lab, and the bones she was examining.

"Yeah, I know" nodded Angela. "I can't stop thinking about Vincent either. You know, Hodgins and I were here real late last night; he was going through the particulates? I fell asleep right next to him ," laughing, then suddenly serious: "He just didn't want to go home. It's like he's trying to solve this single-handed." Angela sighed, her eyes sad.

"It has certainly been a very distracting time." Brennan answered. "I should examine this microscopically. There seems to be some damage here on the mastoid process." She extended the skull toward Angela.

Angela chuckled, "Sweetie, you know I don't know the difference between a mastoid process, and a process for creating plasticine!" Laughing and shaking her head, Angela left the area, advising as she exited "Go microscope, or whatever it is you do."

Brennan smiled, glad for the momentary relief Angela had brought. Sighing, she returned her attention to her bones.

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At the FBI building, Special Agent Seeley Booth was speaking with Special Agent Genny Shaw in his office. Shaw had come to inform Booth that Leishinger's boss was in the interview room. He was from Hilton Trucking, and they would hopefully be able to get some further information from him.

Genny remained uncertain around Booth, obviously dealing with a case of hero-worship. She felt still felt guilty about inadvertently tipping Broadsky off at the cemetery the previous day, and was desperately trying to prove her to the more senior and experienced agent.

Booth was, of course, aware of this, and countered by unobtrusively guiding Shaw through the intricacies of the case – listening to what she had to say, giving praise or criticism as needed. As a senior agent, it was important for him to encourage new people in 'his' Bureau. Shaw was a promising agent, and just needed a little more experience, and seasoning.

The interview provided some important clues; Hilton trucking was a small company, and did not use smart-cards. Matt Leishinger was responsible for checking loads, and ensuring that the weight carried tallied with the documentation. One of the places that Hilton carried goods from was the Wilmington Port. The Port was an International one, and security included gate-houses with swipe-card access.

Booth thanked the man for his time, and he and Shaw headed out to the car, en-route to Wilmington Port to see what information they might glean there.

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Brennan stood leaning against the autopsy table, Leishinger's skull in her hands, and her elbows propped on the surface of the table. Although the skull was directly in front of her eyes, Temperance was not really examining it, although a cursory glance by a passer-by would not be able to tell this. Temperance's thoughts were a long, long way distant from her present location. Several kilometres, to be exact; approximately the distance to a certain FBI agent's apartment building. In her mind's eye ran a video-loop on permanent playback, filled with the wonder, shock, and confusion of making love with Booth. Chills & heat washed over her skin as she remembered and re-lived. Her eyes intensified and her breath quickened in response.

Angela Montenegro was not a passer-by, and her look into the room was anything but cursory. She stood quietly, watching her friend 'examine' Leishinger's cranium, and decided to push the issue that Brennan had neatly side-stepped a little while ago. Advancing determinedly, Angela remarked "You been staring at Leishinger's skull for a really long time. Are you trying to get that thing to talk to you?"

Temperance looked up, and smiled gently, and a little whimsically. She shook her head, and murmured a reply.

"Sorry." Returned Angela, "Just trying to lighten the moment" And she waited for a response.

Once again Brennan tried to side-track her friend. "I really should examine this microscopically."

Angela pinned Brennan with a direct look and challenged "You told me that an hour ago. What IS going on? Is this about Vincent?"

Brennan returned the look, with a forceful one of her own. "Yes!" she declared. _If only it were that simple. _ Her blue eyes dropped, and her expression changed. This was Angela, and she couldn't deceive her. "And..." She shuffled her feet in place as she shifted weight from foot to foot, looked aside and then back to Angela's expectant face. "...I got into bed with Booth last night." With the same vulnerability a child would display, Brennan waited for Angela's response.

Whatever Angela had expected, it wasn't this. She stood, feet planted firmly, arms holding her clipboard, and mouth agape. Her eyes were almost as big as her belly, and for once she was struck dumb.

Not able to wait any longer, Brennan prompted "W...why aren't you saying anything?"

Angela's eyes opened wider, and she beamed "Because I don't want to shout 'Hallelujah' so close to losing Vincent!"

Instead of relaxing into a smile, Brennan looked confused, "I think I did it because of Vincent." _Life is too short to have regrets..._

"Wait. Woah." Angela protested, shaking her long hair back from her eyes. "So" she leaned forward, agog to hear the details, "What ACTUALLY happened after you crawled into bed with Booth?" Knowing those two, and how they had danced around the issue of their relationship for the past six years, Angela wouldn't be surprised each had snored blissfully all night long. But something was responsible for Brennan's mood today. Something more than the tragic passing of her Squintern.

Leaning forward, Angela supported her weight on the table with one hand, invading Brennan's space and trying to force an answer. Brennan's look held securely, her eyes serious and calm. _"Ah. Nothing happened." _Was Angela's conclusion. And then Temperance's expression changed entirely. A sweetening of the eyes, and a secret smile softened the features of her friend, making her appear even more beautiful in that instant. The smile told it all – Temperance and Seeley had finally connected, in every way it was possible for two people to connect: Emotionally, sexually, spiritually, physically, and most importantly, with love. It was all there in the face to be read by a friend who had been waiting for this for even longer than Brennan had been.

It was at this moment that Hodgins barrelled into the room, full of some information that he had gleaned from his examination of the bullet casing that had been removed from Vincent's body. "I got the mass spec. results on the bullet that killed Vincent." He crowed in jubilation.

Instantly Brennan snapped back within herself, as violently and completely as a hermit crab protecting its soft flesh from a predator. In horror, Angela looked up at her love: "Honey, NO! NOT right now. I'm sorry; I love you, but go tell Cam. GO. AWAY."

Hodgins stumbled to a halt, the joy of discovery gone from his face. In confusion he turned to Dr B. Hoping for more sense from her than from his pregnant and moody wife. Nothing. Looking back at Angela, he opened his mouth to protest, only to be shouted down again. Hurt, he wheeled around and stomped out of the room. _"Sheesh! Women!´ _ You could almost hear the words running through his mind. At the door he turned to stare at Angela.

She locked her gaze with Jack, and shrilled "AWAAAYYYYYY..." turning her head to dismiss him from her sight, she re-focused on Temperance.

"Ducking her head, and looking coy, Brennan smiled again. "It was just. Just. So..." she didn't know how to continue and shook her head helplessly.

Angela grabbed her friend's arm in a grip of iron, and dragged her into her office, slamming the door shut. "Now. GIVE!" She commanded.

Brennan sighed and sat on her couch. These talks with Angela were where she worked out her feelings. Where she often identified the thoughts and motivations that had been driving her.

"I was awake, and feeling sad. Booth was in his room asleep, and I was on that stupid couch! He wouldn't let me go anywhere, even to get pyjamas from home in case Broadsky was watching my place. I kept seeing Vincent." Tears filled Brennan's eyes as she relived the events once more. "I just kept thinking about being alone, and having regrets, and how Vincent had died, and how Booth & I couldn't save him..." she trailed off. Angela nodded in sympathy, encouraging Brennan to continue. Her own eyes reddened as her own grief was touched.

"I think I just wanted Booth to hold me, to be with him. But I was scared, too you know? I opened the door and went in, and he nearly shot me!" Now Temperance was indignant.

"Well, you should know better than to sneak up on a sleeping soldier while he's protecting somebody" Was Angela's rejoinder. _Adding silently "protecting the woman he loves."_

Brennan smiled, "Yes, well I know that now. Anyway, we talked a bit, and I cried. Booth was good – he really understands that stuff. Better than I do, anyway. I asked him if we could lie down, and he held me, and I cried some more. Then I stopped crying, and Booth was still holding me, and..."

"MmmmHmmmm. Keep going, honey. I want to hear ALL the juicy details."

"It was...different. I don't know, just, not like when I've been with others, like Sully, or, oh, anybody! It was slow, and nice, and...just different. And then we went to sleep. Now I can't stop thinking about it, and then I can't breathe, and my hands shake and I can't concentrate." Brennan's face was flushed

"And now..." the tears threatened and Temperance's voice caught "...now he's somewhere with his gun, going to kill Broadsky. And I'm here. Waiting."

"Oh, sweetie." Angela gathered Brennan in a bear-hug, angling her abdomen so she could reach her friend. "I knew there was something different today. I am SO PLEASED for you! Not that Booth's off risking his life. But that you finally risked your heart, and discovered what love can be like, what gifts life can bring you"

"Love? I've never believed in love..."

"Well, you do now" as she tucked a stray hair back behind Brennan's ear. "Come on, I'll sit with you while we wait for news. You won't be doing much work today by the sound of it."

"Well...just for a little while. Then I really do need to examine that skull microscopically." _A death, followed by a new life?...and I hope not by another death _Brennan commented, wiping away several more tears.

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The ride was short, and very soon Shaw & Booth were at the main access gate to the Port, talking to the black guard on duty.

"You ever see this guy?" asked Booth, holding up a picture of Jacob Broadsky.

"Yeah, saw him an hour ago."

"Was he coming or going?"

"Coming."

"He leave yet?"

"No."

"Right, you close this place down, now" and Booth hit a small white button on the side of the guard-booth. With a grind and a shudder, the security gate began to slide closed.

"Hey, you got the authority to do that? 'Cos I sure don't" protested the guard.

Ignoring him, Booth turned away, instructing Shaw to deal with the situation. As he turned, his phone rang, and he picked it up on the way to his car.

"Booth" as he listened he turned back to Shaw. "You get on the phone and talk to this guy's boss, or his boss's boss: whatever it takes to shut this place down."

Shaw nodded and pulled out her phone, "Yes sir, but what are you gonna do?" Getting no response she turned back to the guard and began the task assigned to her by her senior.

Meanwhile, on his phone, Booth was listening to Hodgins' latest information. Produce. Broadsky would be near fresh produce. Spinning back he held up the photo he carried once more. "This guy work on, or near a ship with fruit & vegetables?"

"Yeah. The Persephone."

"Where is it?"

Right down the end, Pier 8. You won't miss it."

Nodding, Booth punched off the phone and opened the tailgate of his car. Sitting in the centre of the space was a hard black case, very similar to the one discovered near Leishinger's decomposed remains. Focused and business-like, Booth opened the case and picked up his sniper rifle. The last time he'd used it was several weeks ago, back on top of the Court House. Bones had been spotter for him as they'd foiled Broadsky's target that day.

His mind running on the present situation, Booth's internal commentary went a little like this:

*backup? Get Shaw on that, she can co-ordinate and take all incoming reports.

*Vest? No. No use, no time. Too heavy, and it only protects the upper torso anyway. Broadsky will be going for the kill. That means a head shot.

*Civilians? Need to get them out. No, can't do that. Damn! – Jacob would notice them leaving the area, it would tip him off. Okay then, gonna have to warn them as I close in. Any sense and they'll hit the ground and stay there.

*Pier 8, down the end. Right, plenty of cover between the shipping containers. Broadsky's gonna be up high, so watch that.

*Advantages – Broadsky's not expecting me, he thinks he took me down yesterday.

*Disadvantages – this is his turf. He knows the layout. He's got the home ground advantage.

This took only seconds as Booth checked his weapon. Grabbing the head-set, he placed the plastic piece in his left ear, running the wire down his sleeve. Connecting to his phone, he placed it on remote. With a single finger he could activate incoming calls, and hear through the head-set. No sound would escape to tip off his adversary, and he would be able speak out loud to the caller to convey information.

He snapped a magazine into the speed-loader, and dropped another into his pocket. Just in case, although he didn't expect to need it. "When the Cavalry arrives, tell them I'm down there, armed and dangerous" he tossed over his shoulder towards Shaw. He was ready. Calmly and efficiently he turned and jogged away, rifle tucked against his body. All other matters faded away, and Booth's focus was absolute. There was a job to do, and only he could do it.

Sights, sounds and smells filled Booth's senses. Everything around him could become valuable information on this hunt for a trained killer. He sidled close to the rust-red sides of a row of containers, checking each alley-way as he came to it, making his way as fast as possible toward Pier 8. Movement ahead and to the right. He flattened against the container and brought his rifle up. Smoothly and quickly he cornered into the alley, and sighted on two men walking along. Hard-hatted workers in paid shirts, neither of them Broadsky. They grabbed each other in shock and reflexively jumped out of the way. Booth jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the way they should leave, and continued on his mission.

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In the cabin of the loading crane which he had claimed as his own, Broadsky looked out over the Pier. Just below and to the right was the Persephone. He turned his attention to the metal-working equipment in front of him. Hand-crafting his ammunition had become a ritual; soothing him, while helping him to focus. He polished the copper jacket of a completed round, satisfied that it was correctly finished, and would not jam. Surveying through the smudged plexi-glass, he caught movement below. Stilling his hands, he looked closer. What he saw was not a welcome sight: Booth, rifle in hand, had just rounded a corner before disappearing again.

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Frustration filled Broadsky's mind. "What do I have to do to neutralise that...!" Thinking back on yesterday's hit, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his target had gone down. He visualised once more the thermal image of a body answering a phone displayed on the screen in front of him. His shot had been true; 5th left intercostal space, mid-clavicular line. Round designed to shatter after impact, destroying either the heart or the aorta. Death within seconds from internal bleeding. The only explanation could be that Booth wasn't the one that had picked up the phone.

Tapping his fingers on the window-ledge, Broadsky rapidly ran through his options. His only choice was to take Booth out right now, here, where he knew the ground and Booth didn't. Turning, he used his left hand to pick up his new rifle. Cradling it in his R) forearm he opened the door and exited. Time to hunt.

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Booth saw a sign and an arrow: "Pier 8" and knew he was close. His rifle was no longer at his side, but tucked against his shoulder in a ready position. His sniper's sixth sense told him Broadsky was near, that it would only be a matter of minutes now. As if to verify this, Booth noted several inches of a slim dark barrel emerge from behind a container diagonally opposite him. Taking a bead, he waited for the rest of the weapon which would be followed by his opponent. The barrel withdrew after a few seconds as Broadsky changed direction. This would be a game of patience, skill and nerve. Booth stepped silently back, intending to circle around to a better position.

Seeley's head-set buzzed, indicating an incoming call. Not stopping his advance, he activated it expecting to hear an update from Shaw on the ETA of backup.

"Booth? Hello? You there?" It was Brennan.

"Hello?" she continued. Booth didn't answer, not wanting to reveal his position to the enemy. Muffled: "He's there, but he's not answering."

Hodgins "Maybe he can't." Scratching noises then Hodgins' voice clear in his ear. "One for yes, two for no. Is this Seeley Booth?" Tap.

"Are you in danger?" Tap. Booth notes another dock worker in the distance as he runs from potential danger.

"Are you after Broadsky?" Tap.

More scratching noises, then Brennan again; "I've examined Leishinger's skull microscopically. Two bruises on the left mastoid process were inflicted by the knuckles on Broadsky's right fist." No response. "Do you understand what that means?" Tap. Tap.

Hodgins, muffled in the background: "Dr Brennan listen! If he's playing duelling snipers with Broadsky you gotta get to the point REAL fast!"

Brennan: "Booth listen; he struck the mastoid, which is nearly 44mm thick."

Hodgins: "Ahh!" followed by a loud thump. Loud and clear in his head: "Broadsky's right hand is broken!"

Nodding understanding, Booth answers "You may have just saved my life." One more tap, followed by dead air. The call had been terminated as Booth claimed back his attention.

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One hundred meters away, Broadsky settled onto his belly atop a red shipping crate, his rifle already set up, the supports extended. Putting his eye to the scope he sees Booth moving between the containers. Steadying his weapon with his right wrist, he places his left index finger on the trigger and fires. "Damn" he whispers to himself. He doesn't need to watch to know the shot was off, and wrings his injured hand, cursing softly.

Hearing the report, Booth ducks around the corner of the container, and hears a pinging whine as Broadsky's shot goes wide. _He's off balance. _ Analyses Booth. _Gotta keep him that way._

Shouting out loud, Booth taunts "Broadsky! You missed!"

Broadsky, irritated: "Happens to the best of us."

"Not to you. Not to me." Booth is stating a fact. He knows his adversary is struggling, and strains all senses, striving for any clue as to Broadsky's next move.

Silence, and Booth knows Broadsky has abandoned his vantage point and is on the move once more. "You want to give up?"

Broadsky. "YOU want to give up?" He knows the answer, but two can play at mind-games.

Booth: "You know that's not my thing," beginning to move again to where he anticipates Jacob will go. He understands Jacob from long years of working together, and knows what his moves will be. The pain from his hand added to the frustration of missing Booth twice in a row will compromise Jacob's thinking. Not much, but maybe just enough. Time to throw a curve-ball.

Booth turns and moves in a new direction. Broadsky will go high again, sticking with established procedures.

Broadsky has exited the stacks of containers, and is now moving through piles of truck-trailers. These will be easy to climb, offering good hand-holds. Slinging the rifle across his back, he steps up onto a truck-bed, aiming for the sky. Gaining his objective, Broadsky shrugs his rifle back into position, once more supporting with his right wrist, his left hand on the trigger-guard. Sighting through the scope he circles, looking for his target.

Behind and to the left, Booth is on the ground, advancing through the trailers. He sees Broadsky above him, and quickly sights, but Broadsky leaps down before Booth can fire. Smiling, Booth nods to himself, and peels off to the right, circling rapidly. He finds a sheltered spot between two trailers, and sidles into the cramped space. He estimates he has a minute or so before Broadsky appears on the trailer two in front of him.

Squatting down, Booth extends one leg, supporting himself with the other. Bracing his back against the wheel behind him, his rifle supported across his knee Booth peers through the sight, and stops moving. His breathing is slow and steady: no sound gives away his position. Broadsky would have had to see him enter this space to know exactly where he is. Booth is ready: let the target come to him now.

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Broadsky leaps across the gap between two blue stacks of trailers, keeping his footing easily. Right hand at his side, he keeps the rifle up with his left, scanning through his scope. Two steps and he hears a voice from behind.

"Drop your weapon, or I'll blow your head off."

Broadsky stops moving, not bothering to turn around. He can tell by the direction of Booth's voice that he's down low. "Breaking tradition here," he comments: "snipers go for high ground."

Booth answers without moving, or lowering his weapon "Your hand is broken, you can't possibly adjust."

Broadsky "How can you possibly know that?" he runs his thumb over the injured fingers.

"The boy you killed? The Squint? He was a good kid. You did wrong there." Letting Jacob know this was personal – the squints are Booth's team, and Broadsky has taken something from him.

Broadsky "Collateral damage in the pursuit of a greater good." Trying to rattle Booth and gain back the advantage.

Booth, flatly and with deadly intent: "Drop the weapon. I'm not gonna ask you again." He has sighted on Jacob's chest, the target that gives him the best chance of a successful hit.

Having gauged Booth's general position from this short conversation, Broadsky whirls suddenly, trying to bring his rifle to bear. He gets halfway around before Booth fires; at the last instant, Booth changes his chosen point of impact, and hits his colleague in the right leg, just below the knee. Broadsky cries out, reflexively clutching his leg, and falls.

Seconds later Booth has abandoned his hide, and is standing over Broadsky, covering him with his weapon. He kicks the other rifle out of the way, before placing is foot directly over the wound on Jacob's leg, causing pain and preventing him from getting up.

The sound of a helicopter from above and Booth knows it's over. He's done his job – Jacob will be arrested and face trial. Mission accomplished with one shot fired, and no other casualties – the mark of a good sniper. _A clean kill_ he thinks to himself. _Although thank God there was no actual killing._

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Bones hit her phone button, realising that Booth was gone, and couldn't be interrupted. She paced back and forth in front of Hodgins, hands on hips, feeling helpless. Glancing up at him she spoke "Thanks, Hodgins. I still have trouble communicating sometimes."

"Sure Dr B." He answered. "No probs. So, now we wait huh?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Now we wait." With that she turned and headed towards her office.

Jack turned and headed back to his own room, glad that Angela was here, and they were safe. On the way he came across his pregnant wife coming down the hall that led to the ladies room. Angela joked that she spent as much time in the bathroom as she did eating lately. She looked weary, circles under her eyes, and all he wanted to do was tuck her into bed and watch her sleep.

Angela looked up, and fell into step beside him. Automatically Hodgins shortened his gait to match her waddling one.

"You got hold of Booth?" Angie asked.

"Yep."

"Right. Well, I hope he's OK."

"He was after Broadsky when we spoke. He couldn't talk though."

Angela looked up into the soft brown eyes she adored. "Just promise me, that if you ever actually discover that one of your mad conspiracy theories is true, you leave it to the big bad guys to sort out!"

"Sure, babe. I'm really not the hero kind, you know." He draped an arm around her shoulders, and planted a kiss on her ear.

Angela smiled with affection "Thank God!" and leaned her head against him as they continued down the hallway.

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Brennan continued to pace her office, unsettled and unused to feeling helpless. There was absolutely nothing she could do: she didn't even know where Booth was, only that he was hunting Broadsky, and was in danger. She sighed, and headed to get a coffee. Sipping the hot bitter brew, she spied Sweets entering the building. Booth, true to his word, had sent the psychologist along to provide moral support.

"Any word?" he asked.

"Booth is after Broadsky now." She answered calmly. "We were able to determine where Broadsky's was, also that he's most likely injured, probably fractures, his 2nd & 3rd right distal metacarpals."

"Does Booth know this?"

"Yes, we were able to communicate briefly."

"Okay. So now we wait."

_Why does everybody keep SAYING that?_ Brennan asked herself. Giving Sweets a dirty look, she headed upstairs to the lounge area that overlooked the lab.

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Over the next 20 minutes, the rest of the Jeffersonian team joined Brennan around the table as they waited for news. She had placed her phone on the table, within easy reach. At first, there was conversation from Cam and Angie, who tried to fill the time with baby talk and other chatter. As the minutes passed, the talk faded, until they were all sitting in silence, each lost in thought.

Brennan's phone shrilled, and everybody tensed.

Before the first ring had faded Brennan dived on the device, and had the phone to her ear.

"Brennan."

Genny Shaw's voice filled her head_. Oh, no, if it was OK, Booth would call me himself_ Temperance thought. "We've got Broadsky" Shaw informed her. "Booth took him down with a shot to the leg."

"Yes, I understand" Brennan answered calmly. _She did sound calm, didn't she?_ Brennan's heart-rate accelerated, reacting to the adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream.

"Booth is OK, we're just taking Broadsky in now."

"Thankyou." the call ended.

Brennan hit 'end' and placed the phone down in front of her. Taking a breath she looked up at her four friends whose attention was riveted on her. They didn't need to ask: she knew what they wanted to know.

"Booth got Broadsky." She provided, and stood up from the table. There was a general exhalation of breath, and Hodgins clapped. "Yes!"

Cam covered her face with her hand, biting her lip to control her relief, while Angie locked eyes with her friend and smiled. It was all going to be OK. Cam jumped from her chair, and grabbed Sweets in a bear-hug. Sweets responded, relieved that the man he looked to as a 'strong male role model' was alive and safe.

Brennan took a deep breath in, and walked calmly away towards her office. When she arrived she shut and locked the door before shutting the blinds. Sitting behind her desk, she dropped her head into her hands and began to sob. Relief flowed through her as she realised that she would see Booth again, that he was alive, and safe.

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It was evening, and 5 people stood in a line in an alley-way. From right to left were Angela, Sweets, Booth, Hodgins and Cam. There was an air of sadness, and waiting. A black hearse suddenly drove in front of them, stopping with a gentle squeal of brakes at the curb just in front of them.

Angela looks around, searching for something or somebody. The action is practised, as though she has performed it many times over the past few minutes, which she has. "Maybe she's not coming."

Sweets answers: "Dr B has been known to retreat into hyper-rationalism in times of emotional turmoil."

Hodgins glares at him, signalling his disapproval. "Hey! Even I want to slap you now!"

Booth steps in, playing peacemaker. There shouldn't be any arguing here amongst them tonight. "Alright guys. Bones said she will come. She will definitely be here." And he shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of the fawn trench-coat he is wearing, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

At this moment there is a sound behind them, and the group turns. Four attendants dressed in the familiar blue lab-coat of the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal team appear. Between them is a plain pine coffin which they wheel along.

Hodgins steps forward and gently remarks "Hey guys. Let us handle that, OK?" The attendants nod, and step back into the building allowing the close-knit group some space.

Everybody steps forward, united in grief as they surround Vincent's coffin. Angela looks towards Booth, and asks "You wanna say something?"

Booth is surprised, but pleased. "What? I barely knew him!" he protests.

A voice from behind agrees with Booth "That's true. Booth only ever called Mr Nigel-Murray 'the English Squintern'."

Five faces turned and faced Dr Brennan, who stood there hugging a potted hydrangea in full bloom in her arms. Sweets remarked "We thought you weren't coming."

Brennan stepped forward explaining as she did so "I stopped to get this" placing the Hydrangea on Vincent's coffin.

Cam cocked her head sideways, laughing. "Because nothing says 'Rest in Peace' like a potted plant!"

Brennan is confused, and stepped back awkwardly. "Did I do something wrong?"

Angela smiled approval and said "No. Honey, you did something exactly right."

Brennan glowed with the praise. It has taken her a long, long time to master some of the social niceties that others take for granted, and Angela's acknowledgement means a great deal to her. She looked towards Booth, who stands between Angela and Sweets. He smiled, proud of and for her at this moment. His approval meant more to Bones than all the others put together.

One by one the Team shares memories of Vincent: the silly facts he would quote, how his life had touched them all.

For Booth, this reminds him forcefully of the many times he has farewelled colleagues while on active duty. The body would be flown back to the family while the unit stood and bade a colleague and friend goodbye. There was never opportunity formal funeral for fallen soldiers overseas; that privilege was reserved for the immediate family at home. The unit would gather together after the body was shipped out, and have their own wake.

Brennan was the last one to share. "His favourite song was 'Da Lime and Da Coconut." She offers.

Sweets looked up, surprised. "Really? Becuase, you know, that's my jam!" Cam looked away, and surreptitiously wiping a tear from her cheek. Sweets began to sing in a quavery voice: "You put da lime in da coconut an' drink 'em bot' up.."

After a couple of repetitions, everybody joined in. Booth provided the bass counterpoint as the group clapped and sang, loading Vincent's body into the back of the hearse and closing the tail-gate as they did so.

One by one the team broke up and walked away. Booth remained standing at the curb, watching the hearse move away. He is lonely, dealing with the traumatic events of the last few days. Too many deaths, too much on the line, culminating with him hunting a former colleague. His brow creased as he tried to deal with the many emotions roiling around.

Several feet away, Bones stood watching him. He looked alone and vulnerable, and she felt a need to bring him comfort. Stepping forward she tucked her arm though his, leaning against him while hugging him to her. Booth, momentarily startled, glanced down at the slender hand gripping his wrist with surprising strength. Smiling, he clasped her arm to his side, and they turned and walked away together.

Watching from the shelter of the loading bay, Angela beamed with happiness before turning and following Hodgins toward their car.

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Brennan and Booth walked down the dark street together, leaning companionably against one another. They had just had a short and informal ceremony seeing Vincent Nigel-Murray's body off on the first leg of its journey back home to England. Mrs Nigel-Murray was waiting for her son, so she could lay him to rest. Brennan's heart ached for the woman so many miles away.

Inclining his head towards the woman he loved, had loved for so many years, Booth whispered "Your place or mine?"

"Mine. Seems only fair." Brennan answered.

Blue eyes and brown locked in an intent gaze. "Thai foooood" they chorused.

"You go pick it up and meet me there" added Temperance, moving off towards her car. Booth nodded, turning towards his own vehicle.

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Opening her front door, Brennan entered her apartment. Unaccustomed emotions churned within – joy, relief, fear, anticipation, arousal, and worry. Sensations that she had begun to experience only in the last few months plagued her. She recalled past conversations with Booth, when she would scoff at colloquialisms such as 'broken heart' and 'falling in love'. These phrases had made no sense to her, as it was not possible to 'break' a human heart, and 'falling in love' was foolish hyperbole.

Placing her bag on her desk, she moved towards her bedroom, removing her coat as she went. She had to admit that the sensations she had been experiencing over the day did have a lot in common with the sensation of falling: The same plunging feeling in the chest, a slight nausea, followed by cardiac palpitations. She even discovered that she was diaphoretic at times. Chuckling, she mentally translated for Booth: "Diaphoresis, the production of moisture and electrolytes from the sweat glands, resulting in the cooling of the skin. Often accompanied by dilation of surface capillaries resulting in light flushing."

Perhaps popular fiction had more to offer than she'd given it credit.

Moving about her home she started coffee, put on some music (not 'Hot Blooded', she was in the mood for something a little more mellow) and generally prepared for her partner's arrival.

She placed a couple of cold beers on the coffee table, and made sure there were serviettes within reach. By this time Booth signalled his arrival by knocking on the door. Swallowing, Brennan moved to let him in.

"Hey Bones!" he smiled, stepping into the familiar room. The aroma of Asian food filled the space, and Bones' stomach growled. She hadn't eaten much all day.

"Come in, Booth" She led the way to the couch, where they unpacked food onto the coffee table. Opening their beer, they clinked bottles, then dived for the Mi Krob at the same time; it was a favourite with both, and often precipitated an argument over which of them had eaten the most.

"What a day" he sighed, running his hands over his face.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Brennan offered. "I have learned from experience that sharing a traumatic event with a close friend can help reduce stress. Are you stressed Booth?"

"Awww, that's nice Bones, thanks. Yeah, I was pretty stressed, although relaxing a bit now." He leaned back on the couch; hands behind his neck as he stretched out, trying to ease out the kinks.

"Here, turn around and let me help." Brennan placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him forward before turning his back towards her. Feeling the muscles of his neck, shoulders and back she commented. "Hmmm, yes. Tension in the trapezius, as well as the sterno-cleido-mastoid." Placing her hands on the knotted areas she began stroking and kneading, working the muscles. Booth groaned as she un-erringly found painful spots.

"You want the shirt off so you can reach better?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be helpful."

He nodded and unbuttoned the cotton shirt he'd been wearing all day, exposing his torso to her probing fingers. Brennan closed her eyes, and began working, using touch to determine where massage and accu-pressure could provide the best relief.

"Booth?"

"Mmm?"

"Why did it take so long for this to happen?"

"What, you mean us? Together?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"I don't know Bones. Things just got complicated. We were both a bit afraid, I think. There were other people, too. You know, Sully, Hannah..."

"Yes, I know. But we were always there for each other, no matter what happened over the years. You helped me when I was afraid, and I helped you when you had problems."

"Yeah, I know. I always appreciated that Bones; you were always there when I needed to talk. And even some times when I didn't want to talk, but just wanted company."

"Thankyou."

He smiled, even though his back was towards her. "You know Bones, I think in the end we put it off for so long that we were scared. You know? We had such a good partnership, and worked so well together that we were afraid to lose that. I know I was. Ow, yeah, right there Bones, that's a good spot." He hunched one shoulder, leaning back into her strong fingers before continuing. "But I think it's gonna be OK. We're good, sensible people. If we're careful, it'll work out; we just gotta focus on the cases when we're working, and leave the private stuff for when we're, you know, private."

"Yes, I think that would be best. I, personally, am very good at compartmentalising, and I have observed that you are quite disciplined when you work a case. There, are you all relaxed now?"

"Almost Bones, almost." He turned to face her, placing his hands on either side of her face he leaned in close. "You are so beautiful." His dark eyes seemed to become even darker as he gazed at her. She remembered a question asked her by a suspect earlier in the year: "Look into my eyes – what do you see?" Looking into Booth's right now she saw a gentleness that was new, a hope, and, perhaps, love?

"Thankyou Booth. You see? I'm learning – once I would have said 'I know'. "

"Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"Shut up." He leaned forward to kiss her, and she met him half way. Scooting across the couch, she wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders, and squirmed onto his lap. Giving herself up to the kiss she once again experienced the falling sensation that had been plaguing her all day. Several minutes passed in near silence, and at the end of them both were breathing harder.

Giggling, Bones commented "I don't think you're relaxed any more, Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"And whose fault is that, Forensic Anthropologist Temperance Brennan?" he countered.

Giggling again, Brennan leaped to her feet and changed tack. "You smell! All sweaty and fishy."

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you risk your life and play with guns."

Temperance reached out and grabbed him by the belt, then turned and led him out of the room. "Well, I know how to fix that."

"Yeah? How?"

She led him into her bathroom where she let go of his belt and kissed him once more. Turning to the shower recess, she started the shower. "Easy. I am going to wash you."

Booth closed the distance between them, snagging her against him. "Is that so? And what if I want to wash you?"

"I never said it couldn't be mutual." Was the rejoinder. It suddenly became a race to see who could get into the shower first. Temperance grabbed the soap and lathered her hands "Me first." Holding himself as still as possible, Seeley allowed her to soap his body. Starting with his chest, she worked slowly and methodically. White lather soon covered him all over: back, arms, belly and legs. He was most certainly not relaxed any more. With a groan, he grabbed the soap from her to return the favour.

Now it was Temperance's turn, and she found it quite challenging to stand quietly as his strong hands caressed her skin. Finally finished, Seeley pulled her under the spray, washing away the obscuring soap. He reached out and turned off the faucet before leading her out of the stall. Grabbing the nearest towel he gently dried her face first, before working down.

Trembling now, with her breathing coming short, Temperance turned and laid hold of another towel. Briskly she rubbed him dry, working fast. When they were done, she led the short distance to her room. Standing facing each other in the dim light, they were oblivious to anything but the sensations they were experiencing.

"Oh yeah, Bones." Growled Booth, as he sat down, pulling her down with him. Once again Tempe straddled him, and they were lost in a rhythm that was familiar to them both, and yet at the same time, totally and ecstatically new.

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The first thing Seeley Booth became aware of was that he was warm and relaxed, and that he had slept incredibly well. Stretching out half asleep he looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings, trying to remember the events that lead him to be here. Sighing, he rolled over, and caught sight of Bones curled on her side, breathing softly. _"Wow. Two mornings in a row I get to wake up with her beside me. I must be the luckiest guy alive_." Reaching out, he gently brushed a knuckle down her cheek, amazed that he could just reach out and touch her.

For so many years he had dreamed about this kind of closeness with Bones, but had resigned himself to never experiencing it. She had been too hurt, and was too frightened to trust. And there were just one or two problems in his own life which had caused him to shy away from her as well. He remembered cautioning her about 'the line which must not be crossed' way back in the beginning of their working partnership. In hindsight, that advice had been correct – it would have been too easy to allow the physical attraction they felt for each other to draw them into a relationship before either was ready.

"For a jock, you can be a pretty wise guy sometimes, Seeley" he whispered to himself. He allowed a gentle smile to emerge as his eyes caressed the extraordinarily beautiful woman who slept beside him. The smile changed the character of his square face. Over the last few days he had been wearing a stern and focused expression, which could intimidated others with a look, but was now creased with tenderness and joy as he gazed at his partner, slumbering peacefully within his arms' reach.

Sliding his feet out of the bed he grabbed the red fluffy robe Temperance had left draped across a chair in the room and slid it on. It barely closed about his broad shoulders, and came down to just above his knees. Smiling and shaking his head at the sight he must present, Booth made his way into the kitchen. The coffee Bones had put on last night was still in the pot, but would be over-brewed and bitter by now. Tipping it down the sink he set about putting on a fresh pot. He picked up the half-empty cartons from the coffee table and dumped them into the trash. It didn't take long for the coffee to be done, and Booth poured two cups before taking them both back to the bedroom.

By the time he returned Temperance was awake, half reclining against the head-board. "What ARE you wearing Booth?"

She chortled out loud at his appearance. Booth laughed his slow Booth-laugh out loud, "Heh heh hehh. Yeah, there you go Bones." Handing her cup over "Enjoy."

He placed his own cup on the side table before crawling back under the covers. Taking a sip of the aromatic brew he leaned back beside Tempe and closed his eyes. He couldn't imagine a better way to start the day.

"Booth?"

"You know, you can call me Seeley now" He teased.

"I know, but I like calling you Booth."

"All right Bones, whatever you want." Yawning "What were you going to say?"

"Do you remember that case we worked a long time ago, where the murder victim was a pony?" she sipped her own coffee "and he was killed by his rider and left in the woods after she cut his feet off?"

"How could I forget? That was one of the strangest ones I've ever come across. And that's saying something!" he shook his head in bafflement. "Grown people should not dress up like horses and go prancing around. For one thing, they looked ridiculous!"

"I remember you said something when the case was finished, and I wanted to ask you about it."

"Ask away Bones."

"You said that those people played those games to try and make them feel closer together, that they tried to use the games as a substitute for the real thing."

"MmmHmm. What's your point?"

"I never really understood what you meant by 'the real thing'." She was sitting up, looking at him with her pale blue eyes full of puzzlement. "I agreed with your argument in order to encourage you to stop talking. I was feeling uncomfortable."

"Really? And I thought I'd actually scored a point with you. Huh." He looked at her, a little miffed that she'd played him all those years ago. Or was it that she'd played him and that he'd fallen for it? Turning back to his mug, he swallowed a large mouthful.

"So." She wriggled closer to him, burying her face into his shoulder, her nose tickled by the pile of her red wrap. "The real thing, Booth. Is this what you meant? This feeling I have now? What we have together here?"

Booth's irritation faded quickly, and he hugged Temperance hard against him. "You know, Bones" his voice was husky with emotion, "I think it might be." He turned towards her, continuing "we're breakin' the laws of physics, you know." Tilting his head he kissed her lips gently. "Two people so close together they occupy the same space." He placed his now-empty cup on the floor beside the bed, freeing both his hands so he could wrap them around her.

He just wanted to hold Temperance, and never let her go. _It was tragic_ he thought _that a woman so beautiful, kind and intelligent as this one should have so little faith in herself and her emotions, and should have missed out on so much in life._

Temperance smiled happily and snuggled down in his arms. "All I know is that this is new for me: I have never felt like this before."

"And how do you feel Bones?"

"I don't know – relaxed, safe, happy, there are too many feelings all mixed together." Her brow furrowed as she attempted to analyse them. "I just want to stay here, with you, for a while. A long while."

"You know something Temperance?" his dark eyes burned holes in her.

"What, Seeley?" hers returned his gaze with laser-like intensity.

"It's new for me, too. I've never felt quite this way before with any other woman. I never, ever want to let you go again. We just found each other, let's not mess it up this time." His large hand cupped the side of her face, and she leaned in to it.

"I promise to try Booth. I'm very intelligent you know; I'm a fast learner."

Booth's belly-laugh echoed around the room "Yes, you are that Bones" And he kissed her once more.

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An hour later Booth bounded out of bed and began to dress. "Come on Bones, UP!" he commanded.

She lifted her head off the pillow, only half awake "What? Booth, it's Saturday, we don't have to go to work."

"Yep. And on Saturdays, you jog. In the Park." Very business-like. "Come on, rise & shine."

"Jog? Well yes, but..."

"What, you thought we'd just stay here all day, together?..."

"You. Are. VERY. Annoying!" grated Bones as she lobbed a pillow in her lover's general direction.

Booth caught the pillow effortlessly, and lobbed it straight back with perfect aim.

"Ooof." It caught her on the side of the head as she dragged herself upright. "You are going to PAY for this!"

"Oh, I HOPE so" he smirked.

Gritting her teeth and sending a look that could shatter glass Tempe stalked off to find her workout gear. Booth smiled serenely – he enjoyed riling Bones, and would often start an argument just for the fun of seeing her lose her cool.

Within 20 minutes they were in his car on the way to collect some clothes Booth could jog in. At his apartment he quickly tossed some things into a duffel bag. He also collected his pile of clothing to take down to the dry-cleaners so he'd be ready for work on Monday.

The day was bright and pleasant as they drove to the stat of the jogging track. By this time Bones was somewhat more awake, although her dirty mood persisted. She jibed at Booth all the way, but he refused to be drawn.

"Nope, nothing you can say is gonna make me angry today Bones. This is the first day of the rest of our lives, and I plan to enjoy every minute."

His refusal to lose his good humour perversely caused Bones to become even more entrenched in her foul one, for no good reason other than she wanted to. "You know, you could occasionally let me drive you know."

"Now why would I want to do that?" he answered.

"Because I am an excellent driver."

"So you've said before, Rain Man.

"What is this Rain Man you keep mentioning?"

"Who, Bones, not what" snorting under his breath.

"Whatever" she groused.

"It's from a movie Bones; a famous movie. It's about this guy who's an idiot savant, and he can't go out in the rain."

"You mean he has Autism."

"He's really intelligent, and can do stuff like know how many toothpicks fall on the floor, and can count cards at a Casino."

"He sounds like he is affected by Autism from the Asperger's Spectrum of disorders."

"Who...What? What are you on about? Ash-burger?"

"It is a group of conditions where the individual is extremely intelligent, probably at the genius level. They are typically extremely good at identifying patterns with words, numbers, colours, and symbols. Due to difficulty in communicating, they are quite isolated, and impaired in social interactions, though. Some of them need hospitalisation so ensure their basic needs are met." Several minutes later: "Do you remember when I counted cards Booth? That time we went to Las Vegas, and you were a fighter?"

"Yes, I remember," And under his breath smiling wickedly "Rain Man."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are you implying.."

But by then they had arrived at the Park, and Booth had gotten out of the car to avoid answering her. Walking over to the stretching area at the beginning of the jogging track he began to warm up. Bones followed, then bent into a stretch, resting her hands on her knees as she began loosening her quadriceps.

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After several minutes of warm-up, Booth glanced over at Brennan, and saw she was ready. They set off down the track together, keeping pace effortlessly. The first few hundred meters were difficult, as always, until the duo had worked enough to relax into the exercise.

Muscles warm, their legs pounded rhythmically, almost without thought. Although not winded it was difficult to converse, so they ran in silence most of the time.

Exercise endorphins began their work, and Temperance's mood began to lighten. It was just too much work to stay mad at Booth. The sun was out, and she was a fit, healthy young woman who was enjoying the feeling of working her body hard. Sweat sheened her face and began to drip down her neck as she sped up her pace, moving along faster and overtaking a jogger in front of them.

Booth moved easily beside her, also enjoying the movement. He could see her expression and body language change. No longer moving stiffly with irritation, her limbs flowed along easily, and her jaw was no longer clenched. He smiled with satisfaction: although he did enjoy their arguments, he was in the mood for companionship today.

He wanted to be with her, to do things with her, and this was the first thing that had come to mind. Something they both enjoyed and needed, and could share while reaping the benefits of the activity. He laughed under his breath, thinking about a recent conversation concerning stamina: Trapped in that elevator with nothing to do but talk, they had both admitted to the feelings they harboured for each other. That is, when they could crow-bar Sweets into leaving them alone for more than 3 minutes.

Chuckling Booth remembered how he had faded out for a long moment after Bones had commented on how compatible they would be, in a hypothetical relationship. He hadn't been able to help it – having her so close while talking about a physical relationship had sent him spinning away into la-la land.

Well, no more la-la-land now. Their relationship was real, and concrete, and damned if he was going to do anything that might jeopardise that. Besides, Bones had been proven correct (as usual!) they were extremely compatible, and it was very satisfying being with her. Changing the direction of his thoughts, Booth concentrated on running, intending to speak to Bones about this subject later.

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Brennan, no longer irritated, began reviewing their recent conversation in the car. She had never considered the point before, but there were certain similarities between herself and a person with Asperger's Autism. The same high intelligence, with ability to discern patterns and information other people might miss. How many times had she commented to fellow workers that "I am simply extremely observant."? Engaging her formidable intellect, she began to analyse and compare as she ran.

Behavioural indicators of Asperger's disorder include:

increased higher-functioning. Yes, I do have that when compared to the majority of the population.

The ability to quickly discern patterns in seemingly random items: Sometimes, yes. Particularly if it has anything to do with bones. Although it was laughably easy to keep track of the playing cards while playing '21' that time in Las Vegas. It was definitely NOT cheating.

Difficulty adjusting when routines are changed and disrupted: No, I adjust to new situations, even if I am unsettled for a short time.

Difficulty perceiving social cues and reacting appropriately according to other people: I will concede that one. Most of the social mores that people find so important are methods of taking the focus away from important things – like logical and empirical thought.

Conclusion: while I may display a limited number of similarities with a person who has Asperger's Autism, I am too well-adjusted socially and emotionally to qualify that diagnosis.

This topic dealt with to her satisfaction, Bones dismissed the theme from her mind with typical discipline, and dedicated herself to enjoying the rest of the run with Booth. She had to admit – it had been a very good idea, and she was glad they had come.

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"I'll get it" called Booth, forging ahead as he ran up to the doughnut stand. Fishing in his shorts pocket, he pulled out a couple of crumpled bills. Brennan came to a halt a few paces behind him. Bending forward, she rested her hands on her knees, and panted gently, listening as Booth gave the order for two coffees and four doughnuts. She glanced around, and saw a bench within walking distance, and claimed it for them both. Joggers continued to move past her, and she watched idly while she waited for her breakfast.

Within a few minutes, Booth approached. He juggled a disposable cup in each hand while clamping a grease-stained paper bag beneath one arm. Brennan accepted her cup and sat back with it, crossing one leg over the other as she did so. Holding the cup to her nose she inhaled appreciatively, before taking a sip.

"Coffee and doughnuts" commented Booth, "Food of the gods. Especially after exercise" as he foraged in the bag, then took a huge bite. Sugar and cinnamon coated his mouth, and Brennan smiled as she reached for one herself.

Suddenly self-conscious, he looked defensively at her "What?" opening his arms in a 'what did I do?' gesture.

"You are acting like a big kid, shovelling in that food" she chuckled.

"So? I enjoy doughnuts!" he retorted.

"You were right, Booth" as she chewed slowly.

"I was? About what? The doughnuts?" he looked down at the remains of his snack quizzically.

"Going for a run. I have found the last few days quite difficult, and the exercise has been beneficial."

"Difficult? What, you breaking up with me already?" although said in a bantering tone, there was more than a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"No, Booth" Brennan was affectionate, but also exasperated. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it's taken us six years to get to this point, and I keep waiting for you to find some logical reason to walk away." He accented the 'logical' with imaginary quotation marks using both hands.

"No, I don't plan to do that at this particular time. At this stage of the relationship it is too early to determine whether it will be successful or not. And we have not yet discussed the criteria 'successful' would mean for both of us."

"What? Do you start all your romantic relationships this way?" Booth looked confused, trying to follow where Brennan was heading in this conversation.

"Don't you? How can you determine whether a relationship is meeting the needs of both parties involved unless you discuss it?"

"I usually just take each day as it comes, and see what develops."

"Huh. No wonder you seem to have so many failed relationships."

Stung, he retorted hotly "At least I've never dated two people at the same time!" He swung away from Bones, grabbing the last doughnut to scarf down.

"Hey! I was NOT dating both of them! One of them was for physical release, the other was for companionship and intellectual enjoyment!"

"Whatever you want to call it, Bones, you were seeing two different men at the same time, and neither knew about the other. Until the end, that is." He chuckled at the memory of a tense scene in her office, when both dates had arrived at the same time to take her out, and literally run into one another.

"That's NOT fair – that was a totally different situation." She ate in silence for a while. "Can we change the subject now please?"

"Fine. You start." He was still angry with her.

"Booth" moving closer along the bench. "Don't be mad." He glanced over at her, and allowed the wonder of this woman to reach his heart once more. Smiling, he reached over and pulled her gently against his side, planting a kiss on her hair.

Brennan smiled with contentment, snuggling back against his hard form before bringing up the subject that she'd been considering for the last few minutes.

"What are we going to do about telling people? You know, the team, Angela, Hodgins, Cam. And Sweets – what are we going to tell Sweets?"

"Why do we have to tell them anything?" he answered, smiling mischievously.

Brennan sat forward and turned to face him. "What do you mean? We have to tell them something!"

"No, we don't. It's none of their business anyway."

"But Booth...we can't!"

"Listen Bones. How long have we been working together?"

"Just over 6 years."

"And how long have we been putting off having a relationship?"

"Several months since we last spoke about it. Which was after we apprehended the slave trafficker after the blackout."

"It's been a little bit longer than that! I knew, right from the start that you were special, and we should be together. If you hadn't decided we were too drunk that very first case, we would have made love a looooong time ago."

"Well, yes, that's true. We were very drunk Booth."

"It was probably a good thing we didn't get together back then. It would have just been a physical thing. What we have now is much better, much deeper, don't you think?"

"We certainly know each other better. And we've developed a friendship which we both value."

"Bones, it's more than a friendship, and you know it! I spend more time with you than with any other person on this planet, and it's the same for you. And it's not only work, either: We go to dinner together, we spend time just hanging out, we have a few drinks together..."

"That's true, too. I find, lately, I feel more relaxed when I'm with you than when I'm alone. I've never felt that way with anybody else."

Booth's eyes softened, and he smiled gently. "I love you too, Bones." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly and tenderly.

"Oh. Um, OK" Temperance was confused, unable to meet her partner's eyes. Flushing, she looked away.

"Bones? What's wrong?" reaching out, Booth placed a crooked finger beneath her chin, and gently brought her gaze back to his.

"It's just... That's the first time you've said that to me. That you loved me."

"It can't be. Can it? I'm sure I've said it before."

"No. You haven't."

" Well." His brown eyes intensified, as the world around them vanished from notice. "Temperance Joy Brennan. I love you. Deeply, and with all of my soul. I have loved you for a long time, and I am very happy to be able to tell you, and convince you of my love." He leaned in and once again kissed her gently.

Brennan was silent as tears flowed silently down her cheeks. She had hoped to hear words such as these from his lips, ever since her self-discovery early in the year. Discovering the body of a dead young doctor had caused her to confront the feelings she had been hiding from everybody, especially herself. Ever since she'd told Booth 'I got the message' she'd been hoping for the time when he would be able to freely return her feelings.

The ups and downs, the pain of Hannah's rejection of him and his ultimatum of 'It's work partners or nothing' had left her confused and unsure. She'd continued to hope and wait, and had just received her reward. She, too, had wanted more than just a physical relationship. She had grown and changed over the years, until she was ready to expose herself to the risk of this relationship. Booth's words had released a tension she had hardly been aware of until now.

She locked her blue eyes with his brown ones, a gentle expression filling her face. "And I love you, too Seeley Joseph Booth. And I am privileged to be with you – here today, and whatever the future might bring."

Now it was his turn to shed tears – although it was far less overt than her. After all, Special Agent's shouldn't really cry. Especially not in public.

Snuggling back against together on the hard bench, the couple sat in silence while they finished their coffee, then stood and began to walk back to the car.

"You know, I think you're right Booth. We should let the others work it out for themselves. Especially Sweets." With a wicked grin, she added "After all, it really isn't any of their business."

"It really isn't" he laughed.

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Several weeks passed by, and the new couple slowly adjusted to their new life. As predicted, they were able to separate their personal and professional lives with relatively few hiccups. It probably helped that they had a good strong working relationship that had developed, which made it easy to slip back into the familiar routines.

Brennan was able to compartmentalise easily. After all, she'd been doing it for most of her life, even if she'd been unaware of it. Dealing with the pain of her abandonment at 15 yrs old had caused her to become very practised at distancing herself from her emotions.

Booth found it a little more tricky at first, but his single-minded focus while working won out. Of course, it helped that there had been no active cases for a while. His only need to visit the Jeffersonian lab was to follow up on some old cases that remained unsolved.

Temperance found herself with the opportunity to continue the work she was originally hired for – identifying human remains from around the world. Currently she was working on skeletons exhumed from one of the many mass graves in Germany from the mid to early 1930's. These were most likely victims of some of the smaller concentration camps. Using isotope testing, she was able to identify the origin of the individual, and in conjunction with occupational markers, age & sex, could narrow the possibilities for the identity of each person. The information was then cross-referenced with what records were kept at the camps in the hope of identification.

So far she had been able to return seven family individuals to their families. Children and grandchildren were able to finally know what had happened to a parent or grandparent who had disappeared in the years before 1939, when the war officially began. It gave the families a sense of closure, and Temperance felt a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. She keenly felt the need to relieve family members of wondering what had happened to a mother, a grandmother, or father. Having been in the same situation herself, she understood that the sense of loss could endure for a very long time, and that uncertainty could be incredibly painful.

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Tempe was sitting on the couch in her office, labelling a box of remains. She had identified them as belonging to 24 year-old Anshka Abravanel. She had disappeared from her home in the Jewish ghetto in 1934. Her son, Isaac, survived her and had been cared for by an aunt. He was currently 79 years old, and would now be able to hold a funeral for his mother. As she marked the plain white box with a marker Booth knocked on her glass door before entering.

"Hey Bones."

"Hi Booth."

"What are you doing there?"

"Identifying some remains discovered in Germany in a mass grave."

"Right. Wow, why do I even bother to ask? Anyway, I got Parker this weekend, and was wondering if we could swim at your apartment tomorrow morning?"

"Hmmm... What? Sorry, sure Booth, no problems. I'll let the doorman know you'll be up tomorrow."

"Thanks Bones. Parker really loves that pool. You wanna come down and join us?"

"I might. What time are you planning?"

"I dunno – about 10?"

"OK. See you then." She turned back to her white box and Sharpie, dismissing him from her thoughts."

With a quick salute, Booth turned and headed out of the office.

As Booth crossed the main floor, he came upon Angela as she headed to Brennan's office. Angela looked tired, and was walking with a decided waddle. "Hey Ang. How you doing?" he asked.

Angela stopped dead and nailed Booth with a laser-beam eye. "How do you THINK I'm doing?" she snapped. "I'm tired, I can't sleep for more than half an hour at a time, I can hardly walk, and I'm going to the bathroom every 10 minutes."

"Whoa" Booth raised both hands in a 'don't shoot me' gesture and took a step backwards.

"Sorry sweetie." She smiled ruefully. "Just looking forward to when all this is over. Only two weeks to go, you know."

"Hey, it's alright. I remember how Rebecca was in her last month. Of course I got sent away on duty, so I didn't spend all that much time with her."

"Yeah, I forget you've been through all this before."

Booth placed a hand on her shoulder. "It will all be OK you know."

"That's if I survive these next weeks" and she continued on her way. Chuckling under his breath, Booth headed for the main front doors.

Angela walked into Brennan's office, and headed straight for the couch. Bending awkwardly, she moved a box of remains before plunking herself down on one end and putting her feet up. "So, Sweetie. How are you and Mr Sexy going?" she quizzed her friend.

Looking around quickly, Brennan moved to shut the door so they could converse in private.

"We are doing...well...Ange." was the answer.

"Well? That's ALL? After all this time that's all you can tell me?"

Smiling Brennan added "Better than well, if you must know."

"Yes, I must. Come on, spill!"

"You haven't told anybody? You promised!"

"Not a soul. And it's been HARD! What with all these hormones, and Hodgins not leaving me alone for more than 5 minutes."

"Thanks Ang. Not even Booth knows that you know."

"I think I understood that" smiling.

"Like I said before, being with Booth is different from any other relationship I've had. It's easy, and difficult, and wonderful, and confusing all at the same time. Tell me what to do, Ang."

"Why? What's the problem Hon?"

"It's not a problem, exactly, but I'm finding that there are many things that require resolution now. It's more complicated now." Brennan begins to pace the small area, hands on her hips.

"Ah HAH! This is good Bren. This is what relationships are all about – learning and growing. As you spend time with the other person, you learn more about yourself."

"I seem to be learning more about Booth. I know which dry-cleaner he takes his suits to, I know he snores sometimes. I know he likes to be first in the shower. I know he likes my cooking, but not my taste in music..."

"That's not the kind of thing I was talking about Honey. When you spend a lot of time with another person you learn stuff like what makes you mad, what irritates you, what things you like doing, and how selfish you are."

"I am NOT selfish!" as she turns and glares at the dark-haired woman.

"Of course you are sweetie. You've been living all by yourself in that huge apartment. You've been used to choosing what you want to eat, and when. What music you like, what time you go to bed, when you exercise and all of that. You haven't needed to take into account another person's needs and wants for so long, And I know you – you're very organised. Having Booth there all the time has got to be upsetting your routine."

"He is not there all the time, but you're right, it is upsetting my routine." Brennan is looking guilty, and returns to sit on the couch.

"I KNEW it!"

"Did you go through all this with Hodgins?"

"Sure I did. It's how you know that you really care for somebody – when they can irritate you by just being in the same room. And then, twenty seconds later, you want to crawl onto their lap and kiss them crazy. It's OK Bren," Angela scoots over and places her hand on Brennan's arm "it just means that you're human, and adjusting. Oh, Ouch!" Angela gasps and leans forward, one hand on her belly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," sighing. "Junior just decided to dance on my bladder again. Speaking of which.." Angela levered herself off the couch to go in search of the ladies' room.

"It's OK Bren. Just relax and enjoy the ride sweetie, it will be fine."

"Thanks Ange. You always make me feel better."

"That's what best friends are for." And she gave Brennan a hug before waddling out of the doorway.

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_Relax and enjoy the ride. _Tempe couldn't get Angela's words out of her mind. They were on a permanent playback loop. _Relax and enjoy the ride. OK, I'll try._

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Saturday, late morning, and Booth was cleaning up after breakfast, while an excited Parker bounced around his apartment. "Are you ready dad? When can we go?" he asked for the hundredth time. They'd watched Saturday morning cartoons on the TV, and eaten late. It was a special treat that Parker only got to enjoy with his father.

"Simmer down, Buddy. We're going, just gotta finish up here first." Booth lifted the last cereal bowl out of a sink of water, and placed it on the drying rack. "Go and get your swimming bag."

"Dad!" complained Parker, head on one side and hands on hips "I already got it, remember? It's here, by the door."

"Yeah, OK bud. Just let your old dad get ready, and we'll be gone. You really like that pool, don't you?"

"Yeah!" enthused his son. "It's huge, and it's got that spa thing, and I can swim nearly all the way across under the water."

"That's my boy. Pretty soon you'll be able to swim all the way." Seeley moved to his bedroom, and opening up the cupboard grabbed his own swimming bag. Since Bones had invited them both to use her pool, he made sure that both his and Parker's swimming gear was always in readiness. "Ok, let's go" and he moved to the front door, an excited young boy dancing along behind him.

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In her own apartment, Brennan's mood was quite different than the two guys. She was pacing her floor, hands on hips, chewing her lip at the same time. Her brow was furrowed as she mentally reviewed the past few weeks, counting. Running through her mind were all the facts she remembered about the reproductive cycle of the human female.

_Typical cycle is 28 days, beginning at Day One with the menstrual period. Uterine lining is shed when there is a sudden drop in the hormone progesterone. Several days later, oestrogen levels begin to increase, and an ovarian follicle begins to mature. Day 12 to 13, a surge of Luteinising hormone and follicle stimulating hormone precipitate release of a mature ovum into the fallopian tube at day 14. At this time, progesterone peaks, maintaining the nutrient-rich endometrium in preparation for implantation of the blastocyst. Lining is maintained for a further 12 days. Unless fertilisation occurs, progesterone levels once again drop, and menstruation occurs. If fertilisation does occur, the blastocyst begins to secrete human chorionic gonadatrophin in order to prevent shedding of the endometrium. Implantation takes place approximately 7 days after fertilisation._

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During university, the female students were all encouraged to document their own cycle length as a learning experience. From this time, Temperance was aware that her own cycle varied from the usual 28 days to 26, which was entirely within normal parameters. Running through the figures in her head once more, she came to the same conclusion. She was late, and Mr Vincent Nigel-Murray's death had occurred on day 13 of her cycle. She was only one week, but it was the latest she had been in several years. Then again, there were other causes for alterations in an established menstrual cycle, the most common being emotional upheavals. The last few weeks had been incredibly emotional, and Brennan was still dealing with the fallout.

Only last night she had been shocked awake from a deep sleep, and sat bolt upright in bed, gasping and shaking. She could have sworn that she'd heard a popping sound, followed by shattering glass as a bullet streaked through a skylight. The worst sound, though, was the queer grunting noise that Vincent had made a split second before Booth's heavy body had knocked him to the ground. The sounds and smells were engraved on Temperance's mind, and she knew she would re-live them for a long, long time.

"Are you all right?" she remembered calling out to Booth as she squatted on the floor, having instinctively ducked along with the rest of her team on the forensic platform.

"Yeah." Had been his answer as he rolled off Vincent. "Yeah, we're OK."

It was only then that Brennan realised Vincent was not moving, was gasping in a very strange manner. Looking closer she saw a horrible shape spreading out from beneath his body. "Booth!" she'd yelled, moving towards him. Spinning in place, Booth had seen the blood pulsing from the hole in Vincent's chest.

"Oh, God!" he'd yelled, moving back to Vincent. Without thinking, they had both reached towards the wound, instinctively trying to stop the deadly flow. Booth's hands had hit Vincent's chest a second before hers, and they leaned down together, applying as much pressure as they could, calling for an emergency team at the same time.

The next minute had been harrowing, and Brennan could never forget the feel Vincent dying beneath her hands, Booth's shoulder pressing against hers as they kneeled beside the intern. The smell of warm blood filled her nostrils as she desperately tried to convince Vincent that she didn't want him to go, that he could stay with them at the Jeffersonian for as long as he wanted. The smell of blood had stayed with her for a long, only to be chased away by another, more pleasant smell several hours later. The smell of a warm, sleepy Seeley Booth, as she rested her head against him.

She recalled that night. Or more correctly, that morning. Racked with pain, confusion and guilt, she had only been able to think about one thing – she wanted Booth to hold her. She wanted to be held in his strong arms and hear his voice tell her it would all be all right. As irrational as it seemed, his reassurance meant the world to her, even though he could not possibly know whether things would be all right or not.

She had gathered her courage, and gone in to his room. Booth, being Booth, had been compassionate, kind and comforting, holding her as she sobbed. One thing led to another, and some time later they had finally consummated the love that had been building within both of them for several years.

And now...Now things might be going to change again, and because of that night. Sighing, Temperance shook her head. _Well, no use worrying about it now. Stress is the more logical answer. Seven days is too early to tell anything for sure. Leave it Tempe, for now._

Sighing, she walked to her room. Booth & Parker would be downstairs soon, ready to swim and play until lunch-time. She looked forward to the time she spent in the pool with both of them. It was relaxed and fun. She genuinely enjoyed being able to bring this small bit of pleasure to father and son. Opening her set of drawers, she pulled out her black one-piece bathing suit and began to change.

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Opening the doors to the pool-room, Brennan was struck by the sensation of warm air laden with chlorine. Scanning the area, she saw Parker and Booth at the shallow end of the pool, laughing and splashing one another. Booth knelt on the floor of the pool, holding a ball in one hand above his head. Parker was yelling, splashing and leaping, trying to knock the ball out of his dad's hand. Quickly putting down her bag, Brennan kicked off her flip-flops before removing her wrap. Entering the pool behind Booth, she swiftly moved behind him, before snatching the toy away.

"Hey!" Booth protested, turning to see where the ball had gone. Parker was laughing with delight – apart from his mum & dad, Bones was his favourite person in the world, and he flung himself forward to hug her. Booth turned and saw Brennan standing triumphantly with the ball before her. Smiling in greeting, he watched as his son wrapped his arms around his partner and lover.

"Hey yourself" she answered, smiling too. "Hey Parker. It's good to see you." She returned his hug. Bending down she whispered in his ear. "Would you like to play 'keepings off' your dad?"

Parker's little face burst into a grin of delight. "Sure!" he whispered back, nodding.

Bones laughed and moved away a small distance, while Parker moved to stand in front of his father. Brennan lobbed the ball high, up over Booth's head towards Parker's waiting arms. With a shout, he launched himself upwards, using the buoyancy of the water for greater lift, and snagged the ball out of the ear. Coming back down, he lost his footing and went under water, coming up, coughing but triumphant. Laughing, he threw the ball back towards Bones. Leaping up, Booth made a convincing if half-hearted effort to grab the ball, before allowing Brennan to catch it.

"Ha Dad! I won! I got it past you" crowed one happy child.

"Yep. You sure did bud. But it won't happen again."

"Oh really?" challenged Bones.

"You better believe it" he threatened back, a smile spreading across his face.

Ducking down until the water came to her neck, Bones prepared to throw the ball. Feinting, she indicated to the right, before surging upwards and throwing to the left towards the boy. Booth was not fooled, and made a serious effort to thwart her, grabbing the ball before it could reach its target.

"Yes!" he shouted holding the small plastic object like a trophy.

The game continued for another half hour, when a breathless trio climbed the stairs and rested in the poolside chairs. Parker managed to sit still for a whole 3 minutes before turning to Booth and asking "Can I go swim again, dad?"

"Yep. As long as you stay where we can see you." Was the response.

"Thanks dad" and Parker was off. Running towards the side of the pool, he launched himself into the water, curling his body to make the biggest splash he could.

Booth wriggled his chair closer to Temperance, reaching out to grab her hand. "Thanks Bones. This means a lot to Parker. And to me." He squeezed gently.

"You're welcome." She pushed her concerns away, and concentrated on the moment. He sat there in a pair of baggy boxer shorts, water droplets over his chest and legs. Small rivulets ran down his neck from his hair, and Bones ached to reach up and touch them. Such a little thing as a thought could make her tremble while her heart raced. She licked her lips as though imagining what the droplets would taste like.

Booth noticed the change in her expression, and brought their joined hands over to rest on his leg. "Now, Bones..." he cautioned

"What?" she raised her eyebrows high, feigning innocence.

"Enough with the eyes." He answered. "Behave yourself. We're not exactly private here."

"What? I can't look at you?" she inquired playfully.

"Not like that" he growled, "Not here." Suddenly he was grateful for the boxers he was wearing, and shifted restlessly in the chair.

"Why, Seeley Booth, what ARE you implying?" she teased, freeing her hand from his, and running a fingernail along his ribcage.

"Bones!" he hissed "NOT in front of Parker.

Giggling, she watched him return to the pool and his son. "Hey, Parker, show me again how far you can swim underwater." Booth resolutely ignored the woman reclining on the pool-chairs.

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Several hours later, the three friends were back in Bones' apartment. Appetite stimulated by the water-play, Parker was working his way through a huge plate of fried chicken and potato salad, chatting happily. Bones was in the shower, rinsing off the chlorine while Booth sat and watched 'Transformers' with his son. Brennan had finally acceded to his promptings to get a TV, although she hardly watched it herself.

Hearing the water run, Booth had trouble keeping his mind focused on the antics of the Autobots and Deceptacons on the screen in front of him. In his imagination he kept seeing Temperance in that bathing-suit. While entirely modest, it had suggested curves and softness that he was only just beginning to know, and his mind was having trouble following the storyline of the animated movie.

Within a few minutes, Bones came out and it was Booth's turn. "Back in a minute bud." He told Parker, ruffling his hair as he stood "Just gonna have a quick shower" _A cold one_. He added silently.

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Later that afternoon, Parker had been dropped off to a friend's birthday party. He'd been excited "Dad, it's a slumber party, and we're gonna have a movie marathon. There's gonna be "Speed Racer" and..." Parker went on, listing movie titles that Booth hadn't heard of, let alone Brennan. Booth had returned to Brennan's apartment to relax and spend the afternoon. She was curled on one end of the couch, reading an anthropology journal when he entered the living room. Sitting beside her he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before pivoting and raising his legs up onto the armrest. Leaning back, he cushioned his head on her lap, and let out a sigh of contentment.

He had dreamed of spending afternoons like this with her. Pleasantly tired from the morning's activity, he re-positioned his head, trying to find an even more comfortable position. Brennan had put down her journal, and was gazing down at his relaxed features and the gentle smile that crossed them. With one finger she traced a path from his hair-line down his cheek to his jaw. "You really love having time with Parker, don't you?"

"Yeah" he answered with a sigh. "He's a great kid, and I'm proud of him.

"What was he like when he was a baby?"

"You know, I didn't get to spend all that much time with him back then. I held him a couple of hours after he was born, when I went AWOL. Then I didn't see him for a few months."

"What was it like, holding your son that first time?" Temperance's recent worry that she might have conceived had her thoughts moving in unaccustomed directions.

"Like? I don't know, it was, wow! Wonderful. Here was this little tiny thing that was part of me. He was so small my hand was bigger than his head. His skin, it was so soft, and still covered with that white stuff, you know, that babies are born with?"

"Vernix" she answered absent-mindedly, stroking his cheek while trying to imagine the scene Booth described.

"Whatever. Anyway, he was asleep when I got there. He weighed nothing at all when I picked him up, and he was so warm as I held him against my chest. Then he woke up, and opened his eyes and looked up at me." Booth's eyes became moist at the memory. "There were these two big brown eyes, just staring at me, and I thought 'I helped make this'. It was the most incredible experience I'd ever had. Even now, I think it is the single most important moment of my life."

"Wow. Really?"

"Yes, Bones. Really." He stared up at her, rubbing his face on her hand. "Why do you ask? You've never asked before."

"No reason, just thinking. We had such a good time in the pool this morning didn't we? I was just wondering what Parker was like when he was a baby, that's all."

Nodding, Booth was satisfied, and again closed his eyes. Temperance shifted slightly, bringing both her hands to his face. Cupping his forehead, she moved down with firm but gentle strokes, continuing down his neck to his shoulders, before removing her hands and repeating the movement. She loved the feel of his short hair, slightly spiky. She loved the rough feel of his cheeks, and the surprisingly soft texture of his lips. She continued her ministrations, as much for her own enjoyment as his.

"Mmmm...don't stop Tempe." Booth murmured. "That's nice."

Next she concentrated on his scalp. Splaying her fingers, she lifted his head, cradling the weight easily. With both thumbs, she began a circular motion at each temple, pulling back slightly and moving across the parietal area towards his ears. Meanwhile her fingers found the join between his neck and cranium, and massaged the tendons and muscles there.

Booth's head rocked gently from side to side with the movement of her hands, and he relaxed further, enjoying the sensations. _Oh, wow that feels good_ he commented to himself. _How does she know how to do that?_ The light from the room lamps beat gently on his closed eyelids as Tempe moved to begin gently massaging his shoulders. A sudden absence of brightness told him she had bent forward. Opening his eyes, he looked directly up into her face.

A pair of intense blue eyes stared down from a distance of a few inches. Her shoulder-length hair fell forward, curtaining them both in a world of privacy, and she dipped her head forward to kiss him. Her hands now braced on his chest, she lifted her head, pupils dilated, making her eyes appear darker.

"So, Special Agent Seeley Booth. Now that your son is gone for the night, do you have any suggestions on how to pass the time?"

"Oh, I might have, Temperance. I just might have an idea or two." Tensing his well-developed abdominal muscles, he sat upright before turning to fact her. "Why, what did you have in mind?"

"I was planning on taking a nap. I'm tired after all the exercise this morning. Would you care to join me?"

Laughing, he grabbed her by the hand and led the way to the other room. "A nap. What a great idea." Seconds later, the door snapped shut, and Seeley and Temperance were in a world of their own.

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A week further on and Brennan was no longer willing to use stress as a reason for her missed cycle. It was too early for pregnancy symptoms yet, but she was beginning to suspect that this was what had happened. The emotion of that moment four weeks ago had meant neither of the usually clear-thinking duo had considered taking precautions. Sighing, Brennan knew the next step was a self-test. _But not at work_ she told herself, remembering the fuss that was caused when Angela's test was found in a bin at the lab during an over-night lock-down.

Sighing, Brennan began to research which of the commercially available tests were most accurate at detecting early pregnancy. She would say nothing to anybody until she was sure. _How did it come to this?_ She wondered. _This happens to other people. People who don't plan, and are un-prepared. This shouldn't be happening to me..._

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Meanwhile, at the Hodgins residence, Angela is resisting getting out of bed to go to work. She moved herself clumsily to the other side, and listened to Hodgins pottering around the bathroom. At that moment, she hated him. She hated that he could bounce out of bed with no effort, she hated that he had all the energy in the world, and most of all she hated that his back didn't ache, and that he could see his feet without having to use a mirror.

"Jack!" She bellowed in frustration.

"What? Is it time?" Hodgins came barrelling out of the bathroom, hopping comically on one foot while he tried to get the other into the leg of his shorts. Banging into the door-frame, he finally managed it, then began hopping on the other foot, trying to repeat the movement.

"No! It is NOT time!" she snapped. "I'm fat, and tired, and aching, and I want this ALL to END! I hate you!"

"Oh, Angie." Said her husband, coming to sit on the bed next to her. "You know if I could share this with you, I would. Not much longer to go now." He stroked her face, attempting to soothe her frayed nerves. "I love you, babe." He bent to kiss her cheek.

Angela's sense of fairness re-asserted itself, and she sighed, doing her best to banish her bad mood. "I know you do. And I know you would help if you could. I'm just sick of feeling like this! I want to hold our baby, I want to know that her eyes are OK, I want to see what colour hair he has."

"I know Ange. I know." He continued to stroke her hair. "You want a coffee?"

"Yeah. OK." She snuggled back down onto the pillow for another five minutes, while Hodgins headed off to start the coffee. His own nerves were frayed, and he, too, found the waiting difficult.

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Booth arrived at the Jeffersonian just after Angela and Hodgins. "Hey!" he called out to them. "How's things?" gesturing towards Angela's bloated abdomen.

She smiled tiredly "OK, I guess. I just want it over now. I'm sick of feeling like this."

"Yeah, Rebecca was the same towards the end." Booth laughed at the memory. "She was so grumpy and moody. During that last month I didn't know where I stood. And we weren't even living together!"

Hodgins, under his breath said "Tell me about it..."

Turning surprisingly fast for such a large woman, Angela snapped at him "I better not have heard that!"

Raising his hands in defence, Hodgins shook his head frantically. "What? No, I didn't say anything."

Angela gave him the fish eye before stalking off to put her things away, leaving the two men standing together.

"That was close" Hodgins commented.

"Yup!" was Booth's answer as he chuckled conspirationally. "You can guarantee that anything you don't want 'em to hear they will. But when you're yelling your head off trying to get their attention, suddenly they're deaf!"

Slapping Booth on the shoulder, Hodgins turned to follow Angela, agreeing "Amen, brother."

Booth continued into the building, heading towards Cam's office. He found her behind her desk, tears streaking her cheeks. She held a tissue to the corner of one eye, trying to disturb her makeup as little as possible, although from what Booth could see, her entire face would need a makeover.

Face full of concern, he moved towards his friend, asking "Camille, what's up? You OK?"

Cam looked up, trying to smile, "Do I look alright?"

"Typical Cam. Sarcasm to the rescue once more." Booth stated as he leaned sideways against her desk. "Wanna talk about it?"

Cam's petite face tilted, and she held out a floral-printed sheet of note-paper. "It's from Vincent's mom."

Booth reached forward and scanned the short note. He could almost hear the English accent as he read the words:

Dear Dr Camille Saroyan: I wish to extend my deepest appreciation to you and your team at the Jeffersonian institute. Vincent spoke highly of you all, and thoroughly enjoyed his time with you. It was very kind of you to call me personally to inform me of the tragic event which stole my son from me. Please pass along my sincere regards to each member of your group, especially Dr Temperance Brennan, for granting Vincent the opportunity to study at your facility.

Yours faithfully,

Cynthia Nigel-Murray.

"It's already a month since he was killed." Cam spoke again. "How can the time have gone so quickly?" and she began to cry quietly once more.

Many people never got past Camille's professional and perfectly-groomed exterior, but Booth knew that her seemingly no-nonsense manner covered a soft heart. He sat quietly beside her for a few minutes, lending the support of his presence.

Looking up, he saw Bones entering the building, before heading quickly and furtively to her office. Standing slowly, he indicated Bones with his head "Ah, I'm just going..." and backed towards the door.

Cam nodded, giving tacit permission, and Booth turned and strode across the floor. _Big lummox._ She thought. _It's about time he stopped pussy-footing around that woman, and made a move on her. _Tilting her head the other way, she finished _Or maybe she should make a move on him_, sighing she shook her head in despair. She'd just about given up on the hope that the two would finally acknowledge their feelings for each other. Everybody could see what was going on, except for the two involved in it.

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Booth's long stride carried him to Brennan's office quickly. As he entered her door, she glanced up at him, and quickly dropped something into a drawer of her desk, obviously doing her best to hide something before he could see it.

"What's that? A surprise for me?" he joked.

"N-no." She stuttered, thinking _if only you knew_ as she closed the drawer. "Just some stuff I bought. Did you come for that report from yesterday?"

"Yep. If you've got it ready."

"Yes, I do." Reaching into yet another drawer. "Here you go" and she handed over a manila folder detailing an examination she had completed a week ago.

Taking the folder, Booth opened the front cover, scanning the front page. "K. Looks all here. See ya later." And he headed back out the door.

Sighing, Brennan waited until the sliding front doors had closed before opening the drawer to once again look at her purchase. It was in a small cardboard box, approx 8 inches long, and 1 inch wide and deep. "Instant Home Pregnancy Test" the writing proclaimed, then underneath it: "98% accuracy guaranteed." Shutting the drawer with a snap, Temperance turned to begin the day's work.

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Just before 5:30 Booth came strolling through the doors of the lab. Although he'd been at work all day, he didn't look it. His white shirt remained crisp, with his red tie knotted neatly. His suit jacket hung well, perfectly concealing the weapon he wore in a shoulder holster. His pants legs came down far enough to cover the red and maroon striped socks he wore. Sitting behind her desk, Brennan propped her jaw on her hand and watched her lover cross the floor towards her.

Coming to her doorway, his big sexy grin broke out across his face. "Hey Bones" he greeted, moving towards her. At the last moment he realised where they were, and stumbled to a halt, stopped short of the kiss he was about to deliver. Standing awkwardly, he shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his toes to cover his embarrassment. _Whoops! Gotta watch that, nearly gave the game away there._ And he glanced around to see who might have seen his gaffe.

"Hi Booth." Brennan leaned back in her chair, and focused on the screen in front of her, purposefully not meeting his eyes. She was well aware of what had just happened. She could read Booth's intent in his stride, in his movements, and in his facial expression.

Not looking at him gave him the time he needed to collect himself. "What can I help you with?" Reflexively Brennan reverted to a more distant and professional manner.

Shrugging, Booth paced back to her door before drawing it shut. "Just seeing if you were free tonight." And he leered across the room.

"Actually, no. I'm not free." Brennan still would not look up from her computer.

"But...What?" Booth's forehead was furrowed and confusion filled him. They hadn't missed sharing an evening meal together for weeks.

"Sorry, Booth. I'm not available tonight." Temperance's thoughts were focused on the small package in her desk drawer.

"Oh. OK, then." He looked at her for a moment longer before pivoting and exiting the room. Not sure what was happening, he halted at the door, glancing back at his Bones.

Brennan remained seated behind her desk, resolutely refusing to look at him. She wanted some time alone, and was afraid that if she once looked into his brown, hurt eyes that she would crumble and run into his arms. Bringing up a new screen, she began typing another new chapter for her latest Kathy Reichs novel.

Sighing, Booth turned and walked away, not sure what he had done wrong...

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Booth drove slowly home. It had been less than an hour since Brennan had brushed him off, and he was confused and hurt. It just wasn't like her to make excuses – Bones was too blunt for that! It was one of the things he first admired about her. She wasn't afraid to say exactly what she was thinking, and damn the consequences. Her forwardness had become an asset over the years when they had interviewed suspects together. It was a version of the 'good cop, bad cop' routine, and Booth shamelessly exploited it to achieve results.

Bones would blurt out whatever was going through her mind. Her bluntness and lack of social grace often set the suspect off-balance, which was always an advantage. Using the opportunity, Booth would apply his knack for reading the person, and respond appropriately. Sometimes he openly reprimanded Bones, establishing himself as the kind, good-natured member of the team. Sometimes he would gently smooth over the moment, again establishing his good intentions. Other times he would follow-up with a harsh comment of his own, although that was more unusual. The originality of the female being the hard-ass and the male being the sensitive one had stood them in good stead.

Which is why her recent dissembling was so unsettling. What was she hiding? It had to be something she couldn't share with him. Right from the first, their friendship had been an environment for discussing anything and everything. They might not always agree, in fact they hardly ever did! But that didn't stop them discussing it. Her refused to let him in was frightening.

Picking up some fast food through a drive-thru, Booth went home, prepared to put in some couch time with junk-food, bad movies and alcohol. Quite a bit of alcohol, actually.

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Pacing her living-room, Bones considered what she was about to do. Never in her well-ordered and logical life had she considered the possibility of unplanned motherhood. It just didn't fit into her paradigm, and she wasn't prepared for the possibility. She remembered two years ago when she first discovered that she wanted a baby. The revelation was as much a shock to herself as it was to Sweets and Booth, who shared the moment with her.

This shock compounded, when she realised that the only possible father she could imagine for her child was her friend and partner, Agent Seeley Booth. Having watched him over the years with Parker, she admired his style of fatherhood. His honesty, compassion and sensitivity left little to be desired. Except, of course, when he was in a foul mood, and was cutting, snippy and downright aggressive. She accepted this side of him, though, as a display of the alpha male characteristics she had identified early in him.

Added to these attributes were his obvious intelligence, although it was, of course, nowhere near the level of her own. Also his physical characteristics were desirable as a breeder. She remembered describing to Angela that the distance between Booth's clavicles was wide enough to look pleasing when compared with the narrow space between his iliac crests. None of this had changed; as far as she was concerned, if she was to have a baby, Booth was the best possible choice. The problem was, she hadn't chosen this right now.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage before fishing in her purse and locating the small cardboard package. Averting her eyes from her hands, she paced quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her as if to shield from prying eyes. It was time to take the first step in finding out. After all, these tests weren't 100% accurate. It was just an initial screening before deciding whether to pursue a blood test.

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Laying half on and half off the couch, Booth peered blearily at the television. He had started off watching a Western, which had finished a few hours ago. Beer had long since morphed into scotch, and his co-ordination was slightly the worse for wear.

He had no idea what the movie was right now, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Stumbling to his feet, he aimed the remote in the general direction of the set, and hit the red button. After several tries, the TV flashed off, and he made his way to the bedroom. Collapsing face-first across the bed Booth fell rapidly asleep.

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Brennan laid the small plastic device on her bathroom sink. Picking up the disposable pipette, she carefully placed three drops of liquid into the well. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, she began to count off the seconds. Her heart was pounding, and her palms slightly damp. The last time she'd felt this unsettled was the day before her father's trial for murder. The same feeling of unreality, of being unable to control an outcome left her feeling helpless. She clasped her arms across her body, locking them under her armpits, and turned to pace back and forth in front of the sink.

Glancing up at the clock, she mentally counted down the last few seconds: 57, 58, 59... _OK, time to check!_ Holding her breath, Temperance leaned forward to glance at the window. Two pink lines showed boldly, indicating a positive test.

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_So. I'm pregnant._ Bones sat in her lounge, cradling a cup of tea. _Next step will be.. _Pragmatic and realistic, Bones sat and considered her options. It wasn't as though she was totally unprepared. She'd gone through planning a pregnancy two years ago, when she'd asked Booth to donate so she could realise her dreams of motherhood. The interpersonal difficulties in their partnership over the last couple of years had put this on the backburner, but the desire had never really disappeared. Like many of her secret dreams, Brennan had learned to sublimate it; to continue life, and functioning to her fullest capacity without allowing an unfulfilled desire to destroy her. Smiling, she imagined Angela's face when she broke the unexpected news to her.

The last time Temperance had contemplated pregnancy, Angela'd had a lot to say. _"This is just a way of 'doing it' without really 'doing it'."_ She'd accused Brennan. _"What ever happened to getting all hot and sweaty and..." _ At that point, Brennan had walked away from her friend, not wanting to hear the rest of Angela's sentence. Mentally accusing her friend of romanticising at the time, Brennan had not wanted to hear the 'rubbish' Angela was spouting. With the benefit of hindsight, Brennan admitted that perhaps Ange had more insight than she credited her for.

Perhaps her wanting to carry a child fathered by Seeley Booth had been a way of having a relationship without really having one. Anyway, it was a moot point now, and she needed to move on. _One month pregnant._ She said the words over to herself again, feeling a jolt of excitement. _Wow! I'm going to be a mom._ Immediately following on that thought came _Booth's going to be a dad!_

_Oh, I HAVE to tell him!_ Without even thinking about it, she just KNEW that Booth would be excited. What was that saying? Over the stars? Something like that. Booth loved being a father to Parker, and took the responsibility extremely seriously. She flashed back over countless memories of the two of them together – most recently frolicking like a pair of schoolboys in the pool downstairs. _We'll be able to do that with the baby, too!_ And the feeling of excitement intensified. She had no fears of not being able to cope, or provide for the child, as she'd dealt with all that two years ago. She'd come to the conclusion that she would be an excellent mother, and her financial security meant that money would never be a problem.

Glancing at the clock she saw that it was after 11pm. She'd been sitting thinking for some time. It's OK, Booth will forgive me for waking him this once, and she moved to her cordless phone, dialling the number that she'd known by heart for 5 years.

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Jolted by the harsh sound, Booth raised his head from the pillow. He was still face down across the bed, and there was a stain of moisture where he'd drooled in his sleep. Rolling slightly, he slapped his hand down on the receiver, trying to pick it up. His co-ordination was still off, and the phone clattered to the floor.

"Damn it!" he swore, as he rolled further to see where the phone had gone to. Losing his balance, he thudded to the carpet, suddenly face-to-face with the hand-set. "Hello?" he slurred after making a successful grab for the pesky device.

"Booth? Hello? Are you alright?" It was Bones, sounding concerned.

"Bones? You called, you're not mad at me! Whath are you do..doing, calling at this time?" The words wouldn't come out right.

"Why would you think I was angry at you? Are you drunk Booth?" her voice suddenly accusatory.

"No! Of course I'm not. Well. Not really. I think."

"Because you sound as though your motor skills are impaired by excess ethanol."

"Well. Maybe" He was embarrassed to admit it.

"Have you been drinking ever since you got home? Do you need me to come over there?"

"Not EVER since, Bonesh. And no, don't come ov...ov...over."

"Okay. To avoid a hangover, I recommend you consume at least 1000 millilitres of water. That will help counteract the dehydration."

"Fanks for the tip." He mumbled, before hitting 'end' and dropping the phone onto the floor again. _Really should get back onto the bed. _He thought to himself. _Then again, the floor's pretty comfy._ Reaching up, he grabbed a pillow and yanked the comforter down over himself, before settling off to sleep again.

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Brennan hung up the phone, knowing it would be useless to try and have a rational conversation with Booth at the moment. She would have to wait. Calculating, she realised that it wouldn't be until late tomorrow that he would be in any shape to be rational enough to have the type of conversation she was planning on. _That gives me the whole morning. I will go to my doctor and have a blood test to confirm Beta HCG levels before I tell anybody._

This settled in her mind, she headed for the shower, then for a restful night's sleep.

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Brennan woke early the next day, and bounded out of bed. Her excitement rose like a bubble within her chest. Once more she began to understand the sayings of popular literature, when they described the heart as 'jumping for joy". She'd had interminable discussions with other people on the impossibility of the cardiac organ moving from its place within the chest cavity. On reflection today, she could have sworn she could feel exactly that.

Eating a quick bowl of cereal, she prepared for her morning run. It was far too early to contact her doctor's office, so she decided to fill in the time constructively. As much as she had enjoyed Booth's constant company over the past weeks, she was revelling in this time alone. Living and working alone for so many years had left her with a well-established routine. She had rarely found the need to seek out human company in the past, finding that her work relationships more than filled the void.

Until she became friends with Angela, she rarely had intimate conversations with others. It was Angela who had begun the process of opening her mind to the possibility of companionship. Before this, she had been considered cold and distant. Her continuing partnership with Booth had continued the process. Reviewing, she saw how much she had changed. She'd lost none of her independence, but had learned to allow other people into her life. Finding that she enjoyed the intellectual and emotional give-and-take of friendships, her outlook on life began to change slowly.

Re-establishing contact with her father and brother had further shown Brennan how closed-off she had been, and how much she had yearned for close relationships.

Although she would strenuously deny it if asked, working with Sweets had also played its part in her development. Pushing, poking, and asking questions that she would prefer to leave unanswered, he had also, somehow, become a friend. His innocent-looking face, paired with his vulnerable persona made his efforts somehow more acceptable. On the surface she rejected his 'science' but underneath she had come to accept that Sweets had an understanding of people and their motives that she lacked.

Running effortlessly through the nearly-deserted park, Brennan reflected on life, and the changes she was about to undergo, both physically and emotionally. Keeping one eye on her watch (she needed to call her doctor the minute it became 8:30) Brennan continued to review her life.

_Ironic_ she pondered _that this new life I am carrying came about because of a death. And that the new physical life reflects the new life I am forging with Booth. It is the cycle_ her thoughts continued. _The cycle of death, life, and death. The story of anthropology as experienced by the individual._

She well understood the physical changes her body would undergo. The changes in hormone levels, stress and strain placed on joints, ligaments and bones as they adapted to the extra weight which would develop, as it nestled within her uterus between her iliac crests. The loosening of those joints and ligaments as her body prepared for birth, and the swelling and development of mammary tissue.

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As Bones jogged happily in the early-morning light, Booth was experiencing a very different morning. Waking, his first thought was "_What the heck am I doing down here on the floor?"_ Groaning, he rolled to his back on the prickly carpet, and immediately regretted the movement. Raising his hands, he held onto his head, convinced that it was about to roll off his shoulders.

Getting to his knees, he suddenly felt a violent need to get to the bathroom. Quickly.

_"Coffee" _was the one thought in Booth's head, after fifteen minutes of paying homage to the porcelain god. Staggering to the kitchen, he fumbled around putting on a pot to brew. While the machine was working, he located a bottle of water, and some Tylenol and collapsed on the couch. The smell of his empty fast-food containers sent him scurrying off to the bathroom again, as his abused body objected to the aromas of stale grease and ketchup.

"Never, never again." He promised himself for the thousandth time as he dragged himself back to the couch. Downing a mouthful of water after having dealt with the empty packages, he swallowed the tablets and lay back, praying his stomach would not reject the medication. "Should have listened to Bones." He moaned to himself. "Water last night would have been a good idea."

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Brennan waited impatiently in an uncomfortable upright chair at the doctor's surgery. It was all she could do not to pace. Dr Lurie checked to see who was next on the list, and came to the name Dr Temperance Brennan. Stifling a sigh, he went to the door of his consulting room.

Dr Brennan was a brilliant woman, but always wanted to debate his diagnoses and prescribed treatments. He found her blunt manner aggravating, but tried to keep trepidation out of his voice as he poked his head around the corner and called "Dr Temperance Brennan."

Bones stood, and rapidly moved towards the small room. "Making brief eye contact she greeted him "Dr Lurie"

He nodded ad her, and returned the courtesy "Dr Brennan." Retreating behind the safety of his desk, he leaned forward, linking his hands as he asked "What can I do for you?"

Matter-of-factly she began. "I suspect I am between three and four weeks pregnant. An initial home test showed positive last night, and I have come to request a blood test."

Nodding, and maintaining his professional demeanour, Dr Lurie asked "What symptoms have you been experiencing?"

"Amenorrhea primarily. My cycle is now approximately two weeks late. In addition, I have engaged in unprotected intercourse on approximately day 13 of my cycle, which is usually of 26 days' duration."

Nodding, Dr Lurie turned to his computer to request the pathology test.

"If you wish, I can also perform an internal examination to estimate the length of gestation."

"Thankyou, yes." She answered.

Up on the examination couch, she closed her eyes and waited for Dr Lurie to begin.

"Hmm, yes." He began, "The size of a non-pregnant uterus is the size of a small plum. I would describe yours as slightly larger. Coloration of the cervix also supports pregnancy."

Twenty minutes later Brennan left the surgery, having had blood taken. She felt at a loss, unsure of where to go next. "_Angela,"_ she thought_. "I need to talk to Angela_."

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Hodgins called from the kitchen "You want syrup on your pancakes Babe?"

Resting in bed, Angela called back "Yep. With Peanut Butter."

"What?"

"You heard me. Also some French Fries."

Laughing, Hodgins was already on his way to the room, tray in hand. He enjoyed spoiling his very pregnant wife when he could. Especially now, when she was probably only days away from giving birth.

"Here ya go Babe. Pancakes with syrup and peanut butter. You're gonna have to wait a bit for the fries, while I put 'em in the oven."

"Thanks, Hodgie" she smiled at him. "You're the best."

"Don't I know it" he dropped a kiss on her cheek as he slid the tray onto the bed.

"You know, I'm gonna be SO happy when I have my lap back again." Sighed Angela, as she picked up the plate to support it on top of her belly. "I've forgotten what it's like."

Chuckling evilly Hodgins answered "You can have mine any time."

She slapped his arm, not all that gently and smiled back. "Just go and get my fries, OK?"

Laughing, he left to rummage through the freezer for the frozen treat. He'd also need to find ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce. Long ago he'd stopped remonstrating with Angela over her food choices. It was just easier to go along with it at this stage, and hope her cravings settled after the baby was born.

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Returning to her apartment, Brennan jumped into the shower to freshen up after her run and visit to the doctor. It took her only minutes before she was done. Putting on some coffee and toast, she headed to the phone to call Angie.

"Hello."

"Ange, is that you?"

"Well, it's not Hodgins." Angela answered around a mouthful of food.

"Can I come around? I need to talk."

"Sure Sweetie. You OK?" her friend inquired, suddenly concerned.

"I...I'm fine. Just wanted to see you. You want me to bring you anything?"

"Yep. A huge slice of Pecan Pie."

"Angela, you do know that Pecan Pie is approximately 80% sugar, and the rest is mostly fat."

"Oooohhh yeah" (sounds of lip-licking over the phone). "And don't forget the cream."

"Angela!"

"What?" defensively. "The baby wants what the baby wants" as she ran a hand over her abdomen, which had started moving in the most alarming way. "He's kicking up a storm over here, waiting for that pie..."

"Alright. I'll see you in about twenty minutes."

Hanging up, Brennan went to get her coffee and toast. Spreading the wholemeal bread with cream cheese, she sat on the couch to eat. _I bet Booth is still hung over._ She sighed. _I really would prefer to talk with him first. But Angie knows about all the baby stuff. She can help._

Munching away, Brennan considered again the news her doctor had delivered. Although she would wait for the blood tests to return before being 100% positive she was pregnant, by this time she was 80%. She felt a strange leaping sensation in her chest, and wasn't sure if it was excitement or pure terror. For a rational woman, she was having trouble sorting out her feelings.

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Driving her Sports Car along, Brennan couldn't help but imagine Angela's face when she broke the news to her about her pregnancy. Angela would squeal with excitement, and hug her friend until she couldn't breathe. Her unusual but beautiful face would split into the wide smile that was so Angela. Brennan couldn't wait. Until Angela, she'd never had the experience of a close girl friend, and had never imagined what it would be like to have a sister. Angela was kind of both, wrapped up in one package.

Smiling, she composed her speech in her mind.

Then, frowning, she considered what she was about to do.

Telling Angela would be amazing. Telling Booth would be even better; she couldn't wait to see his face when she made her announcement.

Unless he wasn't excited. What if he wasn't happy about it? He already had Parker, and Temperance was aware of the sense of responsibility Booth felt towards his young son. What if he didn't want another set of responsibilities? They had only being seeing each other romantically for a few weeks. It was too soon! They hadn't really discussed the future, being too caught up in the present and the newness of their love.

All of the insecurities Brennan had slowly begun to overcome slammed home. Her breath stopped, she broke out in a light sweat, and a wave of nausea passed over her. "_Oh, no! How could I have been so stupid? I can't tell Angela. I can't tell anybody until Booth knows first. He deserves that much from me. Poor Booth, what if he leaves? Or worse yet, what if he stays because of this?"_

Thoughts bounced around inside her mind, none of them helping, and all of them compounding her confusion. "_I won't make him stay if he doesn't want to. But last time we talked about having a baby, he made it clear that if he was the father, then he WOULD be involved in the child's life. What am I going to do? I don't want to force him into anything."_

Stopping at the Royal Diner, Brennan bought the pie that Angela wanted. She also dropped into a department store and got a supply of the body lather that she knew Angela liked. It wasn't as if Angie couldn't buy it for herself, after all she was married to a millionaire! But Brennan knew Angie would appreciate the gesture. It was another of the things that Brennan had learned over the last few years – small gestures carried importance far beyond the value of the gift.

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Hitting the doorbell, Brennan waited for the door to open.

"Hello" she greeted the house-keeper who answered. "I'm here to see Angela."

"Come right on in, honey." Answered the young Asian woman, stepping back to allow Brennan access.

Hodgins appeared at the end of the hall. "Hey Dr B. Since you're here, I might pop out for a while. I need to get some stuff, but didn't want to leave Angie alone. You know, just in case..." he broke off with a sheepish grin.

"That's fine, Hodgins. I promise to call you immediately if there are any problems" and she moved toward the stairs. Where's Ange?

"In bed. She's giving her swollen legs a rest today. Glad to see you brought her something" nodding towards the small box Brennan held. "It'll take the pressure off me for a while!"

"Has it been difficult, looking after Angie?" Brennan asked, worried about her own predicament.

"Difficult? You bet!" Placing one hand on his hip and extending one leg forward slightly, he adopted a high-pitched voice, doing a fairly accurate impression of Angela: "Get me some fries Hodgins. Help me out of the car, Hodgins. Rub my feet Hodgins. And my personal favourite? This is ALL YOUR FAULT Hodgins. I hate you!" Brennan could see the frustration on her colleague's face, although it couldn't quite erase the love he also displayed.

"Hmmm. So, do you resent it? All the responsibility, I mean." Brennan shuffled her feet awkwardly on the parquet floor.

"Sometimes, yeah." He nodded, serious suddenly. "It's been hard, and I get worried. About Angie, about the baby, and about how I'll cope."

"I see."

"But mostly it's good. I mean, there's gonna be a little Hodgins, or a little Angela running about the house soon." Laughing, he exited the front door, and she could hear him continue: "Crawling all over the house, throwing up, wrecking things, eating my bugs..." his voice faded into the distance.

Brennan quickly went up the stairs, calling Angela softly. Guided by her replies, Brennan entered the large suite, to find her friend propped against the headboard of her bed, looking bloated and tired.

"Hey Ange. How are you?" Temperance walked forward, perching on the side of the bed and scanning Angela.

She was dressed in a pretty white polka-dotted nightdress, with her hair pulled back off her face with a simple hair-tie. Her belly protruded grotesquely, and Angela cradled it with one arm as though trying to support the weight.

"Hey Bren. Good to see you. Excuse me laying in bed, but it's the easiest way to keep my feet up. I've already gone up two sizes in shoes, and I don't want to go any bigger." she smiled ruefully moving to distribute her weight more onto one hip.

_"Wow," _thought Temperance. "_This is going to be me in several months."_

Leaning forward she hugged her friend before presenting her gifts. "I got these for you."

"Oohh – bubble bath! And Apricot flavour! Thanks Bren." Angela opened the box of pie, and began to dig in, using the disposable spoon that had been provided. "You want some?" she offered the treat to Brennan.

"No, thank you Angela." Brennan answered, feeling slightly sick at the thought of such rich food at this time of day.

"Evrerything OK with you?"

"Y…yes. Yes, I'm OK. I was just wanting to see how you are." Trying to distract Angela onto a new track: "Only a few days now?"

"Yeah, due any time." Angela agreed between mouthfuls. "Hodgins is driving me crazy!" She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Hodgins said he was finding it all very difficult."

"He did? Oh boy. You know, it wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't this blindness thing hanging over us both. It's just awful not knowing, having to wait..." Angela's face contorted, and a few tears fell.

"Oh, Angie" Brennan placed her hand on Angela's offering what comfort she could. _What if there's something wrong with my baby?_ A new fear spiked through her.

"I…I'm sure things will be alright." _I don't really, but I have to say something. _"So, tell me about it all- the plans, getting ready for the birth, how you feel..."

"It's exciting, but scary too." Angela continued. "You know, I'm growing a little person in here" she clasped her hands protectively over her womb. "I just want to get to know him. Or her."

_"Yes, I know"_ Brennan commented silently. "_I know Ange."_

The two women chatted far into the afternoon, laughing and joking like the old friends they were. As much as she wanted to, Brennan said nothing about her own pregnancy, filing away all the details Angela revealed for future reference.

On the way home, one though dominated her mind: "_I can't do this alone. I am going to need Booth's help."_

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It was late afternoon and Booth lay on the couch. Beside him were several empty water bottles, and a half-empty cup of coffee. His face was covered with stubble, and his hair was even spikier that usual, and he smelt sour. For all of this, he was beginning to feel a little more human than first thing that morning.

Sitting up, he sighed with relief when the room didn't spin, and his head didn't protest too much. "_When will I learn that half a bottle of Scotch is not a good idea?"_ And he headed off to the shower.

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"Right Brennan. Time to tell him" she counselled herself on the way home from several hours with Angela. Checking over her shoulder, she changed lanes to head to her partner's apartment. Fear and excitement surged again within her, and she took a deep breath, trying to control the adrenaline that was being dumped into the bloodstream. She was really looking forward to telling him...she was terrified of telling him. Her heart pumped, and her hands began to shake as her breath came short.

She stood at the entrance way and pressed the bell, then listened to the muffled thumping sounds as he moved to answer the door.

"Hey! Bones!" a delighted smile crossed his face. Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, examining him at the same time. He was in a comfortable-looking leisure suit, and his hair was wet. He'd most likely just had a shower; the scent of soap and his aftershave overwhelmed her, and her mind stopped working.

"How are y..." Booth's words were smothered as he was knocked backwards and a kiss was planted on his face. Brennan backed him towards a wall and held him there with her body, both hands cupping his head as she leaned against him. Stroking his closed lips with her tongue, she silently invited him to open to her. When he did, her tongue traced patterns around his mouth.

Growling, Booth placed his arms around Brennan, and returned her kiss with interest. Suddenly reversing their position, he held her against the wall as he kicked the door shut behind him. His hands traced patterns over her torso, and he slipped off her coat, their mouths never breaking contact. Bending, he scooped her into his arms before heading to his room, and dropped her onto the doona.

"Wow! Now that's what I call a welcome!" he commented as he shucked his clothing off as fast as humanly possible.

"Booth...I wanted…" he looked down at her flushed face and dishevelled hair.

He stood over her, looking at the rounded face of this woman he loved. Her eyes darkened with passion, and arms reaching for him, he had never seen anything so beautiful. Placing one hand on each side of her head, he moved slowly and with intent into her personal space, joining her on the bed.

"Bones. Shut. Up." And he brought their lips together in a searing kiss, silencing any further protests she might make. Fire replaced blood in their veins as hunger took over them both. Brennan allowed her rational mind to be overcome. She'd been on an emotional roller coaster all morning, and, while unplanned, this moment was exactly what she needed.

Raising her arms she laid hold of his torso with surprising strength and welded his flesh to her own: closer, she needed to be closer.

Responding to her urging, Booth, too, surrendered to the moment.

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Several hours later, the lovers rested together, limbs entwined.

"Compatible." Brennan offered quietly.

"Very compatible" he answered, gently stroking his face.

"I knew we would be."

"Yeah" on a huge sigh. "Bones, that was..." words failed him.

"I know" she too was lost for words. Closing their eyes, they began to drift off to sleep.

The phone shrilled beside Booth's ear, causing him to jump. At the same time, Brennan's cell-phone alerted from the living room where she'd dropped her bag.

"Booth" he answered, then "Uh, huh. Right. Got it. Be there in a minute."

Hanging up he looked over at her. "We got a case?" she inquired. Their phones tended to go off almost simultaneously as news filtered through the channels to them.

"Yeah" he ran his hand down over his face. "Some kid's birthday party just got wrecked." Rising up off the bed, he rummaged through his wardrobe, selecting a fresh shirt and suit.

"Party?" She inquired, getting up too.

"Yep, at a bowling alley. Dismembered body in the pin-setter, screaming kids everywhere. Gonna be great."

Sighing, she began to dress. _Looks like my big news will have to wait a while._

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Booth jumped into the driver's seat of his SUV, with Brennan automatically going around to the passenger side. On the way to the scene they chatted, filling in time as usual. This would be the first time they had worked a murder together since Vincent's death, and consequently since they became a couple. They were individually a little daunted by this, but excited at the same time.

Pulling into the Parking lot of the Bowling Alley, they went to the tailgate of the vehicle. Booth had taken to carrying a spare crime scene kit for his partner, and Brennan shrugged into her navy-blue overalls as he waited for her. Watching her working the pants legs up one by one was strangely erotic, and Booth abruptly turned around, resolutely staring away from her.

"Booth." She was confused "What's the matter?"

"Nothing Bones, nothing." He shrugged his shoulders and bounced on his toes, trying to look nonchalant.

"Then why won't you look at me." She challenged.

"You remember that conversation we had a couple of weeks ago, about us keeping work and our private lives separate?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Well, let's just say that in order for me to do that right now, it's better that I don't watch you getting changed."

"But, you've watched me put on my crime-scene clothes lots of times..."

"Just, drop it, Bones. Trust me on this one." His voice was flat and commanding. Hearing his tone, she capitulated, although she remained somewhat confused.

"All right" shrugging, she picked up the harness that she customarily wore over her suit and slung it on. "Ok. I'm ready." Together they walked towards the front door, skirting the parked police vehicles on the way. It was good to be working again.

Booth entered first, flashing his ID Badge at the police officer on duty there. Wordlessly he pointed towards the lanes. Following this directive, they move through the large open space. A police chief, obviously the one in charge of the scene joined up with them, and tailed along. He was a young black man, and introduced himself, but neither of the partners caught his name.

Stepping onto the glassy bowling-lane, they carefully made their way down to the pin-setting machinery, the police officer following in their wake. Striving for normality, Brennan opened conversation with the first topic that came to mind. "Angela says she's going to have her baby today."

Booth snorted, amused "Yeah, well. She's been saying that every day for the last two weeks."

"Statistically the probability increases with each passing day." By this time they were close enough to see the body-parts more clearly.

Sitting where the 10 bowling pins would usually be, was a particularly unsavoury sight. Two pins sat in the 7 & 10 position. They were covered with a thick residue, approximately the viscosity of treacle, and dotted with pieces of what could only be decomposing flesh. Next to these pins, in an orderly row were a human skull, a foot still attached to the tibia & fibula which were broken off just distal to the knee joint, and a human forearm, with phalanges intact.

"Oh, WOW" Booth is impressed. Although slightly squeamish, he is also interested. Seeing a new setting for disposal of a body adds to his understanding, therefore his ability to solve cases. "Can anybody say Bleuuuuuaaaagh. What a strike" he comments, miming releasing a bowling ball.

Glancing back with disapproval, Brennan drops to her knees to get a closer look at the remains. As she does, there is a soft 'plopping' sound, and more tissue drops from the machine onto the floor. Reflexively, she takes an exploratory sniff, using her sense of smell to try and detect the presence of chemicals or poisons. She notes nothing but the familiar, slightly sweet smell of putrefaction. _ "It is no wonder that the children at the party ended up screaming"_ she thinks. "_This is an unpleasant sight."_

Kneeling, she pokes her head beneath the low ceiling, examining the skull without touching it. She notes the maggots that are present in the empty orbital foassas. "Caucasian male, mid-thirties." She announces.

Booth supplies "The policeman here states the alley's been closed for the last ten days while the lanes were re-surfaced."

"That would be consistent with the level of decomp" Brennan replies.

"Yeah, but how did he get into the pin-setter?" Booth is repelled and fascinated at the same time.

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At the Diner, Angela and Hodgins discussed the nearing end of their pregnancy, and what they might soon face.

"I feel like a water-buffalo." Angela complained as she scooped some soup into her mouth, followed by a French-fry. "You made sure Dr Banner will check the baby's eyes as soon as possible after birth?" She asked, needing the reassurance that only her husband could provide.

"Yes, Ang. I've spoken to her. She promises to check it out first thing."

"Right. OK, then." Angie returns to eating.

"You know, I'm so SICK of this. My father says that Hot Sauce can precipitate labour."

Hodgins answered her, doing his best to hide his scepticism. "Really?"

"Yeah." She shouts to the waitress "Can we have some Habanjero Sauce over here?"

Within a few minutes, a small bottle of the liquid is placed by Angela's elbow. Removing the lid, she upended the bottle over the soup before she moved to the fries. Watching, Hodgins remonstrated. "Don't you think that's enough there babe?"

"Nah" she answered. "This isn't that hot." Putting down the bottle, Angela took a large mouthful of soup.

Nodding, Hodgins decided to try some himself. After all, if she could eat it, surely a bit wouldn't hurt him, either. Judiciously applying a small amount to the fries on his own plate, he cautiously placed one in his mouth. Smiling, he nodded in satisfaction. It really wasn't all that hot. Until he swallowed.

A wave of spice and heat erupted in his mouth, causing him to cough. Taking a breath and trying to save face, Hodgins nodded at his wife. And then coughed again. His mouth was blistered, and he could hardly draw in enough breath. Coughing and gagging he grabbed his water-glass, trying to bring relief to his abused tongue.

Angela glanced over at him, munching on her own fries. "No. You should try milk, not water." And she downed another mouthful.

"Milk!" Hodgins called to the waitress hoarsely. "Can we have some milk over here." Tears were streaming down his face. Glancing in admiration at his wife, he thought to himself _wow, what a woman!_

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In the service-access behind the bowling lanes, Brennan and Booth were able to get a closer look at the dismembered remains. The smell was overwhelming, and Booth stepped back a few feet, allowing Bones to go first_. No sense in both of them being covered with goo, _he rationalises to himself. The police officer obviously agreed with this unvoiced assessment, and stayed back out of the way as well.

With her usual enthusiasm, Bones stepped in and got good and close to the pin-setter. It was streaked with blood, and liquefied body parts. Organs had long since dissolved into a gelatinous substance. The only recognisable parts were the bones. On the surface of the setter was the victim's other forearm, with hand attached. Bending close, Bones once again examined without touching.

The policeman stated from his position of safety "People often sneak back here to...you know."

Totally focused on the task at hand, Brennan answered shortly "No. I do not know."

"You know..." the officer gestures.

"To have snacks? There are a lot of fast food wrappers, accounting for the rodent and insect acitivity." she interjects.

"Wrong type of snacks." The officer responded, asking himself if she was for real.

Booth decided to rescue his partner, before she uwittingly made even more a fool of herself. "Bones, you know. Sex-you-all lie-ay-sons?" he drawled, drawing the words out. His mind suddenly darted back to the liaison he had shared with her not too long ago.

Brennan's mind follows the same path as her partners' and she laughs as she suddenly understands what the two law-enforcement people are implying. "Oh! Ha ha haa."

Booth continues irreverently "What do you think? He fell in there after making a little Whoopiee?" waggling his arms and hips, Booth sashayed to emphasise his meaning.

Brennan once would have corrected his slang, objecting to his phraseology. Today, feeling mellow and amused, she joined in the banter. "Only if he died during Whoopiee and then fell into the machine. He was dead when he was ripped apart. At least a week."

Once more she examined the remans. "There's bruising on the ulna and the pisciform, and a slight fracture on the radial tuberosity. All ante-mortem" She points out the landmarks of the forearm as she speaks.

The policeman leaned confidentially towards Booth, asking "Did you follow all that?"

Succinctly Booth translates "Dead first, then ground up." He had forgotten the dumb act he often affected around his partner, and revealed that he understands far more of her squint-speak that she was aware. Brennan noted this for future reference, but made no comment. "All of these injuries are defensive in nature."

Once again, Booth revealed his understanding of her words. "Murder?"

Brennan nodded, confirming his assessment. "Murder."

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Dr Temperance Brennan sat on the 3-seater grey couch and waited. Her day had been one of confusion and frustration, and satisfaction: After a long day of under-cover work at a bowling alley, an arrest had been made. Another murderer was off the streets. And now the evening was one of tension and waiting. Her best friend, the only friend she had confided her true feelings for Agent Booth to was currently undergoing a trial of pain and of joy. Angela had been in labour for most of the day, and everybody was waiting with bated breath for the outcome. How much longer? Would Angela be alright? Would the baby be a boy or a girl? And most importantly, would the love-child of Angela & Jack have full use of its eyes? Would her friend suffer that grief so shortly after the wonder of bringing a new life into the world?

Thoughts whirled around and around Brennan's head and she sighed deeply. There was nothing to do but wait. And wait. And Brennan hated waiting – she hated feeling helpless. And helpless was exactly what she was right now. There was absolutely nothing she could do to help Ange, either with the delivery of her first child, or with the outcome. Her thoughts dwelled on her own circumstances, and the life-changing events she was now facing. As though she hadn't faced enough life-changing events in the last few years.

Surreptitiously she passed her hand over her abdomen, hiding the movement beneath the giant white stuffed rabbit she hugged to herself. The rabbit was a gift from Booth and herself for the new baby. At first she had been confused by Booth's suggestion of a stuffed animal as a suitable gift, her mind returning to the moth-eaten hide of a foster family's deceased pet. It had sat in the corner of her room as a young teenager. While in bed, cowering in the dark Temperance had felt the gaze of its bulging glass eyes, and the permanent snarl its lips had been twisted into. She could not imagine such an object being a suitable gift for a baby. But Booth had explained to her what he meant by a stuffed toy, and she'd relaxed.

He'd taken her to a department store and showed her shelf upon shelf of animals, all safe, and all very huggable. Donkeys, elephants, bears, wombats, and rabbits had surrounded them. Reaching up to a large white rabbit she'd run her hand along the length of its plush ears, and announced "This one." With a tender smile, Booth had taken her elbow and they'd walked to the register to pay. And now, here she was in this hospital waiting room, clutching the toy as she waited.

Once again she stroked her stomach, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have another living being growing inside her. Right now, at just over 5 weeks pregnant, there was no change in her physique. The only symptoms she had experienced had been a slight increase in lethargy. This morning she had felt the very first twinge of nausea as she woke, but it had been easily ignored. The disorienting feeling had settled quickly after a cup of herbal tea, but she knew she could expect it to increase over the coming weeks.

A muffled moan came from the doorway behind her and Angela endured yet another painful contraction. The sound-proofing in the walls was doing its job, but the sound of distress had escaped as the doctor quietly entered to check on her patient. Uneasiness spiked through Brennan: in a matter of months, she would be the one behind the soundproofing. Sighing again she glanced around the waiting room at her friends and colleagues.

On the opposite end of her couch sat Wendell, his legs crossed and hand supporting his chin. Special Agent Seeley Booth sat on a separate couch, several paces away from her, with Sweets occupying the other seat. Sighing, Brennan once again retreated inside her head, preoccupied.

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Booth was aware that something was bothering Brennan. He also knew, after working with her for more than 6 years now, that she would tell him only when, and if, she was good and ready. Their recent romantic relationship had changed many things. It had also left many things the same. To push her now would result in a verbal sparring match, and he didn't have the emotional or physical energy to deal with it. Especially not with Sweets looking on.

He had spent the day dressed in the most ridiculous clothing, with a wig straight out of a nightmare. The only good thing about it had been that a  
>casual observer would never have picked him as an FBI agent. His right arm ached – as fit as he kept himself, it had been a while since he'd taken part in a bowling tournament, and he was paying for it. The repeated action of aiming, focusing and releasing a 16lb bowling ball had left the tendons of his right wrist a little the worse for wear, and he massaged the offending limb, wishing that Bones would help with the small hurt. She had a knack for dealing with the aches his body experienced from time to time.<p>

Shifting positions slightly, he watched her covertly. She was dressed in one of her usual impeccably-tailored dress suits, while a black ¾ length coat covered the ensemble. She had a death-grip on the rabbit they had chosen together some weeks ago; if she wasn't careful, it looked as though the stuffing was about to explode from the seams. Turning his attention to her face he noted how tired she looked. Beautiful, with her shoulder-length hair curling slightly and framing her square jaw, she somehow looked different. The change was subtle, creeping over the last week or so, but noticeable to him as he spent a large portion of his waking hours with her. Her face seemed more rounded, somehow, and her skin was different, almost glowing. She carried herself differently too, although he couldn't put his finger on it.

Shifting again, he turned his attention away from his love. The last thing he wanted was for Sweets to catch him mooning over Bones. They had kept their relationship secret from everybody, although Booth was aware that things were beginning to slip. He was almost sure that Max had an idea. Twice today, he'd felt the piercing dark eyes on his face, both times having been after an interaction with Bones which had led his thoughts into dangerous territory. The last thing Booth wanted right now was a killer, no matter how charming, objecting to him sleeping with his daughter.

The first time had been at the Diner. He and Bones had been laughing and goofing off, enjoying the banter. He'd just promised to have her "Ready to catch Angela's baby" as they discussed with enthusiasm the prospect of being girlfriend and boyfriend at the bowling alley. Laughing, he'd thought how much fun it would be to be able to legitimately hold, kiss & fondle Bones in public as part of their act. He'd felt the laser-like stare of her father, and locked gaze momentarily with him, protesting "What?" in feigned innocence.

Max had made some comment about there being some sort of change in Brennan & Booth's interaction, and had accused them of having a fight. "_If only you knew." _ Booth had thought. "_Gonna have to be careful today. Not gonna give this guy any chance to tie __**me **__to a pole and set me on fire."_

Keeping this in mind, he'd been careful not to go overboard at the bowling alley, focusing on portraying his character as the tough, independent type; more focused on his game than his girl. That is until Max had picked him up on it, challenging the pair to act more like a couple. Booth's eyes warmed as he remembered his Bones coming to perch on his knee, while he laid a smacking kiss on her cheek to satisfy Max. What Max hadn't seen was Booth's other arm caressing Bones' backside and slipping just inside the waistband of her jeans as she sat there. The touch had affected Booth more than he intended, and his eyes had lingered on Bones' swaying backside as she stalked away to interview another player. Again Booth had become aware of the pair of dark eyes locked assessingly on his face. Once again he'd turned to face Max, barking out "What?" Max had rolled away in his chair, a smug smile on his face, but said nothing more.

With slips like these, it would only be a matter of time before the other members of the team picked up on the change in their relationship. Somehow, it didn't seem as important now to keep it a secret as it had in the beginning. But now was not the time to go into it. Not with Angela down the hall about to deliver her first child.

Waiting. He hated waiting!

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Two hours later, and the tableau in the waiting room had hardly changed. A harried and dishevelled-looking Hodgins had passed through on the way to the bathroom, before returning to his distressed wife.

Continuing her vigil, Brennan refused to make eye-contact with anybody. Her tension was rising, and she was feeling uncharacteristically emotional. Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see a nurse hurrying into Angela's room. Within a few minutes the doctor followed, and Brennan knew it wouldn't be long. Taking a breath, she stood and began moving around the small area, working out the kinks which had taken up residence from sitting for so long.

Wendell was slumped over, dozing, Sweets had his head pillowed on his hand, and Booth was leaned over, both elbows on knees as he stared at the floor.

Twenty minutes later, Brennan heard the door to Angela's room open again. Looking up, she saw Hodgins walking slowly and carefully, supporting a small bundle in his arms. Brennan's sharply indrawn breath alerted the others that something had changed, and they came to attention. Hodgins' face was weary, and his hair was tousled. His eyes were brightly shining, as the light reflected off the tears of joy he could barely hold back. Walking as though on eggshells, he approached the group, smiling.

"Everybody, I would like you to meet my son: Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins." He gently bounced the infant. Looking over, Brennan could see that the babe was wearing the most ridiculous hat she could have imagined – It had a soft blue band that encircled his head, while some sort of synthetic rats' tails over the top of it. Incongruously embroidered in elegant script on the band was the name 'Michael'.

"Hey" cooed Hodgins to his son: "These are your friends." Sweets and Wendell gathered closer to admire Michael, smiling silly goofy smiles. Booth stood back a little ways, allowing the squints to have their moment. A huge grin was plastered over his face, and he jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his trench-coat, bouncing on his toes as he did so.

Quietly Brennan turned and left the group, making her way into Angela's room.

Laying there in a spotted hospital gown, Angela looked tired, but content. She opened her eyes and smiled at Brennan, "Hi."

"Hi." Brennan tentatively lowered herself into the chair beside the bed. This will be me. In 35 weeks' time, it will be me in that bed, feeling tired and sore. "What was it like?"

Angela looked into her friend's worried face and smiled a secret smile. There was no possible way she could describe giving birth to her friend. This was not an experience that could be understood unless it had been experienced. Smiling, Angela decided to allay Brennan's worries: "It was wonderful. And beautiful. It was a dream."

Brennan smiled, pleased that Angela seemed to be doing so well. She held out the rabbit as Angela reached for it.

"Look at this guy" Angela was feeling weepy and emotional, pleased that her best friend in the world was the first to visit and congratulate her.

Truthful and blunt as always, Brennan states "It's from Booth, too."

"Thank you." And Angela's eye drift closed again.

Brennan moves quietly out of the room. Her worried expression has returned. It is time to tell Booth, and she is not sure how to do it, or how he will react.

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It's a pleasant night, not too cool, and the partners walk down the sidewalk outside the hospital heading for Booth's car.

Booth is aware that something is very wrong with Bones – she is moody, and won't look at him. At regular intervals a sigh escapes her. He glances at her out of the corner of his eyes, not sure what is going on. Is she this affected by Angela's baby? He knows that Bones has a soft heart, and experiences all the usual emotions even though she struggles to deny this. He decides to let Temperance break the silence – she will talk when she is ready, and he is here, willing to listen and comfort. Their footsteps echo on the deserted street.

"She looked so happy." Brennan comments.

A little confused, Booth looks at her with furrowed brow "Well. They had a baby." It was self-explanatory to him.

"But their whole lives have changed." Her voice increases in volume. "You think they'd be a little more apprehensive!" She cannot understand how the crushing weight of responsibility hasn't affected them.

Booth, remembering how he felt when he held Parker for those few minutes, just after he was born answers emphatically "Well, you know. Having a baby? That's a **good** thing." He is more concerned than ever. Surely she isn't reverting back to the anti-baby stance she held when he first met her. That might make things difficult for Angela when she returned to the lab.

She glances up at him, turning to face him. She looks uncertain and vulnerable. "Y...you really think that?"

Was that a wobble in her voice? Was his Bones this upset that she was about to cry? "_Ahh! She's worried about the blindness thing!"_ The light goes on inside his head and he turns to face her, speaking firmly and encouragingly. "Yeah! It's a great thing! Why? Come on, Bones, the baby's fine." He reassures her, re-stating the facts "They had a healthy baby, they love each other. This is the happiest day of their lives. OK?"

He waits for the change in her expression that will indicate she has accepted his words, and is feeling better. Nothing. He is now seriously worried about her; something is drastically wrong with Brennan.

"What?" he asks her, wanting her to explain her strange mood. "What?"

Brennan has her hands in her pockets, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She is actually dancing with anxiety. He waits, encouraging her silently.

Taking a breath, Temperance locks eyes with Booth. This man she loves, and hopes desperately that his love is strong enough to deal with what she is about to dump on him. Because she cannot stand the thought of losing one more person who is important to her.

"I'm…" She stutters to a halt before drawing a breath, and beginning again. "I'm pregnant, Booth." She pauses, waiting for his response. There is none. Booth looks at her, utterly shocked. Trying to reassure him, to get some sort of response, Brennan states baldly "You're the father."

Booth is momentarily not present. At her first words he retreats inside his head. "_Pregnant? What? How? But..."_ He is desperately trying to process this bombshell, unaware that he looks as though he's just received a death-blow. Reeling, he hears her second statement in a fog; "You're the father." It does not compute for several seconds. Then he hears the echo in his mind "Father...father...father."

_Oh, WOW!_" He thinks_. "I'm gonna be a FATHER again! And with Bones! All my dreams come true." _ His brain finally catches up with reality, and he gazes at the woman standing in front of him, waiting. Waiting.

Brennan scours her lover's expression, anxious for his response. He is scaring her. About to give up and turn away she notices the tiniest flicker around his eyes. Like a sunrise, his expression changes gradually and his great big Boothy grin breaks out. Sighing with relief, Brennan, too smiles. "_There, I did it, and it's going to be alright." _ And she turns to resume their walk to the car.

Not about to let her get away that easily, Booth lunges towards her, and grabs her in a bear-hug. Squeezing tight, he picks her up of her feet and twirls her around, laughing as he does so.

"Booth!" She protests, laughing. "Put me down!"

"A father? I'm gonna be a father?" He is still getting his head around it. "Wow! You're gonna have a baby?"

Laughing, she nods and looks away, shyly. "Yes, Booth. I'm going to have a baby. I only found out for sure two days ago. I haven't had a chance to tell you."

"Wow!" He can't find anything else to say as his smile threatens to split his face. "WOW!" He takes her arm, and they continue along the sidewalk together. There will be a lot to discuss.

"You know, I'm hungry" Brennan states.

"Thai fooood?" he asks mischievously.

"Yep."

**The End**


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